Finding Home
by MoxyMuse
Summary: What if the legends the bards sang weren't entirely true? What if there was another that had the heart of our First Knight? What if she was the anomaly that changed the fate of everyone? Set in the midst of the King Arthur film, Evony is rescued from the hell of Roman devils and thrown into the midst of Arthur's Sarmatian Knights. AU Lancelot/OC Who really dies?
1. Chapter 1

_Please note that I do not own any of the characters, plot, or script from the film, King Arthur. I do, however, own the fluff that surrounds the greatness, including any OC introduced in the story. _

_I have been privileged to be inspired by the story and history behind the King Arthur film and the actual legends. I've also been inspired by the many talented writers here on this board. I've been thinking of this story for quite a while and have just now put it all down on paper. Thank you to my bestest of friends, NayNay, for being my first bouncing board and reader/reviewer. I wouldn't have had the courage to post anything if you hadn't supported me!__  
_

_Quick Summary:What if the stories the bards sang of weren't entirely true? What if there was another that held the heart of our First Knight? What if her journey changed the course of history? In this creation, by a miracle, Lancelot lives! We follow our knights from the holy dungeon of Marius Honorius' to the end of the movie and beyond. I've finished a considerable amount of this story and only started out with a small portion to test the waters.  
Please rate and review! Feedback is greatly appreciated!_

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~Finding Home

Green hills, as far as the eye could see, dotted here and there with stone and weed. A breeze blew, cool and fresh, filling ones lungs with the very essence of sun and earth. Home.

A shrill cry interrupted her vision. Blackness. Another cry. The stench of death and decay seeped back into her consciousness. A blade was drawn slowly down her cheek, tracing a line down the side of her neck, her ribs, till it rested at the crook of her hip. Her senses brought her to full alert, eyes snapping open as another scream came from deep within the compound. She braced herself for what she knew was coming next. She thought to herself, she would rather be bound and stretched on their evil contraption than endure another moment of sick indulgences.

What seemed like hours later was really minutes. Her tormentor was done and she heard the rustling of feet. Cracking a swollen eye open she saw the priests and their Roman minions bringing back the pict girl. Her they had decided to torture with their contraptions. A blessing, she thought, from the sick form of torture they had inflicted on her. As they shoved the girl back into her cell, darkness took her again. She was so tired.

Time passed. She could never tell anymore how much, she had been there so long. She heard the dull thud of stones from somewhere in the distance. She smelled the smoke of scorching incense as the delirious priest chanted in Latin and asked for forgiveness for his prisoner. Ironic, she thought, that the man asked forgiveness of others when he was the one who needed it most.

Sounds of smashing now echoed into the darkness. Then there were footsteps getting closer and closer. She braced herself against what she thought was coming. It was then that she heard the priest's infernal chanting stop.

"Who are these defilers of the Lord's temple?" the skinny imp of a man demanded.

"Out of the way," she heard another voice commanding.

She cracked open an eye once more and blinked as the flames of torches lit the cold, dark room. Knights! Her heart skipped a beat. Sarmatian Knights! Had her gods heard her prayers?

"The work of your God. Is this how he answers your prayers?" the darkest of the knights asked his commanding officer angrily. She could see the officer was of Roman descent.

"See if there's any still alive," the Roman officer commanded and his Sarmatian Knights jumped to it.

She heard the sharp clang of sword against chain and the gates of cells dropping open. She saw the figure of the dark knight approach her. He lifted her chin ever so slightly and saw that she breathed. His eyes, pools of dark glass, grew wide.

"How dare you set foot in this holy place!" she heard one of the vile priests protest and then saw the dark Sarmatian knight lose his patience. He stood and spun around, burying his sword to the hilt in the priests gut with a sickening squish.

"That was a man of God!" the other priest said.

"Not my God!" the dark knight yelled and pointed a finger at the priest before turning back to her.

She felt his arm slip around her waist and heard his mighty sword crash against metal as he cut her chains from the wall. As she dropped to the ground he caught her. Another creak, she could hear the boy being lifted from the pit. Another crash, the Roman brought the pict girl out of her cell. They were the only three alive in this infernal place. All the others that had been there much longer than them and had rotted away from starvation and torture.

Moments later she was being carried out of the darkness. Reaching the light, she took a deep breath in and looked up at her savior. His dark curls framed brooding eyes and a jaw set in disgust at what he had just emerged from. She breathed in clean air at last and tried to grasp what shreds of her clothing remained and save what little of her pride she had left. As the knight set her on the ground, the wife of the head of the household ran over and draped her cloak over her shaking body.

"Water!" she heard the commander shout, "Give me some water!"

Skins of water were produced and she felt the thin hands of the lady hold the nozzle to her lips. She drank hungrily, trying to wash away the taste of filth from her mouth. She opened her eyes once more to see the dark knight stand and walk a few paces away before turning and looking at her one more time. His eyes were a flame, and that was the last thing she saw before consciousness slipped from her grasp once more.

She woke hours later to a cool cloth wiping her brow. Smells of medicinal herbs and oils filled her senses. Opening her eyes she realized they were no longer swollen. She could see perfectly. Her senses sharpened as the cool air wafted in from the open flap.

"How are you feeling?" the soft, thick voice of the Roman lady of the house asked.

"Better," she said weakly.

"I am Fulcinia," the lady said, "What is your name?"

"Evony," her voice was hoarse.

"Evony, what a beautiful name," Fulcinia commented as she wiped Evony's brow again.

Evony looked around. They had placed her in a cart with the pict girl and the little boy. The Pict lay sleeping quietly in a corner under a pile of furs. The boy looked feverish and was being attended to by the giant knight.

"Drink this," Fulcinia held a cup of steaming liquid to her lips.

Evony took a sip and immediately choked and sputtered from the thick, bitter taste.

"Please, dear, you need to drink it all. It is to cleanse your body. I know what they did to you," Fulcinia said, her brow wrinkled.

Evony met her gaze and realized exactly what the Roman woman meant. Holding her breath, she quickly took the cup from Fulcinia's hands and downed the liquid as fast as she could. She knew that she would rather handle the bitter taste of the concoction than take a chance.

"Your wounds were minor," Fulcinia said, taking the cup from Evony's shaking hands, "I've cleaned your cuts and taken care of the swelling from your eyes…"

"Why would you help me?" Evony asked, her voice raspy as it tried to regain its strength. She wanted to know, why would this woman, the Roman Devil's wife, help the likes of her? Especially since it was her husband that gave the order for Evony's defilement.

"Because, my dear, I am not my husband," the woman simply said. The expression on her face was pained and Evony realized that she had been as much of a prisoner to this man as any of them.

Evony turned her head and looked out of the flap in the cart. She could see her rescuers, heavily clad in armor, riding their grand warhorses beside the cart. The dark one with the curly hair rode up, peering inside at her. His gaze met hers for the briefest moment, trying to study her with his brooding eyes before he moved on.

"They call him Lancelot," Fulcinia informed her, "The Empire has sent Artorius Castus and his Sarmatian Knights to rescue us from the Saxons."

"Artorius….Arthur," Evony repeated. She had heard of the legendary Arthur and his knights. The Sarmatian knights that had fought fiercest of all in history, and with more honor. The dark one, Lancelot, was Arthur's First Knight. He was said to be the fiercest of them all, and he had rescued her from the cruel hands of the Priests.

A moment later the pict girl awoke. She stared at Evony from under her furs.

"I am sorry," she said, plainly and simply.

"For what?" Evony asked, no emotion apparent.

"For what they did to you," the pict said, a kind of sadness entering her eyes. She had been in that hell longer than Evony, but never had the priests or the soldiers subjected her to their sick desires.

Evony turned her head to look at the falling snow, "Devils will be devils."

Devils indeed. Evony knew that in this world a man's actions determined his nature. The Roman mercenaries, the priests, and the Roman Head of Household, Marius Honorius, had but devils in their nature. Therefore, devil's they would be.

"I am Guinevere," the pict girl introduced herself.

"Evony," the girl said, "How are your hands?"

"They will heal. Arthur set them while you slept." Guinevere said as she moved closer to the open flap for fresh air.

The path that the company took was long and slow. Evony kept to herself as much as she could until she heard Guinevere talking to Arthur. At that conversation she could not help but eavesdrop.

"My father told me great tales of you," Guinevere said, catching the attention of the great Commander.

"Really," Arthur said, riding just ahead of the wagon without turning his back, "And what did you hear?"

"Fairy tales," Guinevere said wistfully, "the kind you hear about people so brave, so selfless, that they can't be real. Arthur and his knights. A leader both Briton and Roman." Here she paused for the smallest of moments and let the irony slip off her tongue like honey, "And yet you chose your allegiance to Rome. To those who take what does not belong to them. The same Rome that took your men from their homeland."

This last statement angered Arthur. Evony listened as his words laced with annoyance, "Listen, Lady, do not pretend you know anything about me or my men."

At this, Guinevere let her boldness spill off her lips, "How many Britons have you killed?"

"As many as tried to kill me. It's the natural state of any man to want to live," Arthur answered sharply.

"Animals live. It's a natural state of any man to want to live free in their own country," Guinevere let her words shoot daggers towards the half-breed Roman before softening her tone of voice and regaining her composure, "I belong to this land. Where do you belong, Arthur?"

"How's your hand?" Arthur quickly changed the subject.

Evony smirked to herself inside the cart. Of course Arthur couldn't answer that question. He, like so many she had known before, did not have a place to belong to. It was the consequence of being in the Roman military. Some men found it easier than others to remember what they had left had been home. Others, like herself, like Arthur, and surely like some of his knights, knew what home should be, but felt no ties to that land or this one for that matter. Lost souls in search of belonging. It was their curse, and Evony could sympathize whole heartedly.

"I'll live, I promise you," Guinevere smiled at him from her furs before saying, "Is there nothing about my land that appeals to your heart? Your own father married a Briton. Even he must have found something to his liking."

With that, Evony could hear Arthur lead his horse away from the cart. Moments later the caravan of people came to a halt.

"You ask a lot of him," Evony finally said.

Guinevere peered at her with a knowing smile, "Because he is a man who can save this land."

"He cannot save what he does not feel he belongs to," Evony told her.

"We all belong to something. He belongs to Briton more than he does Rome. He just doesn't know it yet," the pict girl said with a devious smile.

"Are all pict girls so bold to flirt with a Roman officer?" Evony asked, raising an eyebrow.

Guinevere blushed and then challenged, "It is our boldness that makes us as fierce as our men and equally a part of this land. Do you take issue with a woman who speaks her mind?"

Evony let the corner of her mouth turn up in amusement, "If I did, I would not have met you in that dungeon. I am as guilty as you."

The two women exchanged knowing smiles before falling silent as they waited for the caravan to move again.

As night fell, the caravan made camp in a forest of pine and spruce. Men and women huddled around their little fires, trying to beat out the cold. Dagonet, the giant knight that had saved the boy, Lucan, had retired to a makeshift tent outside. Lucan had followed. The boy had formed a bond with Dagonet and would not leave the knight's side.

"Evony, come. Let me bathe you," Fulcinia said, readying a bowl of warm water and a cloth.

The main flap of the cart was open for air, but the Roman Lady had pinned her gauzy robes over the openings for modesty. A small lamp was lit for light and an oilskin was laid on the floor to catch any water.

Evony let her furs fall to the floor and peeled her soiled shreds of clothing off. Fulcinia took the shreds and threw them out of the cart.

"I have clothing for you and the pict princess," Fulcinia said, "You will wear something befitting a lady. You are not slaves or animals."

Evony caught the hint of anger in the stoic woman's voice as she motioned for Evony to take a seat on the oilskin. She gave her a simple cloth to cover herself and began to dab at Evony's back with a wet sponge. The water was warm and felt soothing on Evony's achy muscles. She had never had someone else wash her before, let alone have the privilege of warm water more than a handful of times in her life. She felt Fulcinia run the sponge over scratches on the flesh of her shoulder blades and winced. Though she had not been subject to the priest's evil machines, they did take the liberty to whip her while they had her chained to the wall.

"Your scars, you have many, child. Old ones even. You have had a hard life. For that I wish it was different," Fulcinia said as she re-cleaned Evony's wounds and placed healing balm on them.

Evony said nothing. Her life had been anything but simple. In some ways, she felt she was exactly like the knights, indentured to a life of servitude. Only her servitude, as did her fathers, had lasted longer than 15 years. Instead of answering, Evony turned her sad brown eyes and peered through the thin fabric the breeze had been trying to blow away. Her long, dark brown hair fell gracefully in platelets over her shoulder. She could see in the darkness, under cover of shadow from the trees, a lone knight staring at her with intensity. She could see his deep brown eyes fighting the inner struggle to maintain honor or give into the demands of a man. At the same time, his eyes studied her as if she was a creature of wonder. She met his gaze, startling him and locking him where he stood for the smallest of moments. His eyes held many questions. If he were lucky, maybe one day she would answer them. For now, they would need to wait. Evony let his gaze falter and he snapped back to attention, bowing his head and walking further into the trees to finish his patrol.

Fulcinia continued her work, massaging scented oils into Evony's skin and brushing the muck out of her hair. When she was finished with her work, she held out a pair of leather boots and a fine gown of red silk. Though the gown was beautiful, Evony couldn't bring herself to wear the thing. She may be a lady, but they were running from Saxons. Fine dresses would not save them. Instead, she wished to be practical. Trousers and a tunic would suit her best, but she had none. Fulcinia was hurt at first, but didn't argue. What right did she have to argue when it was her husbands cruelty that had given the girl most of her scars. Fulcinia swore silently as she went and fetched a parcel on the other side of the wagon.

"The peasant, Ganis, brought this while you slept. He said that you would want it when you were able." Fulcinia pulled the string that held the parcel together. As the leather of the package fell away, Evony saw the most perfect articles of clothing folded neatly in a small pile.

She smiled, thanking the Gods that Ganis had saved what clothing she had left behind. Ganis – he was a good man. One of the few that had helped her when she had come to the compound. One of the few that cared to help anyone. She would have to thank him later.

Evony held up a small undershirt, tunic, trousers, wrist cuffs and leather jerkin. Amongst the meager belongings she also found the small stone pendant that her father had worn. It was a gift from her mother. A deep green stone, worn and shaped in the form of a shiny teardrop. The only prized possession that her family had ever owned.

Fulcinia frowned at the attire but Evony smiled with satisfaction and dressed quickly.

"Don't worry, Fulcinia," Guinevere cheekily said, "I will wear whatever gown you give me."

Evony looked at the Pict Princess, "To charm your commander, no doubt! I, on the other hand, wish to be able to live and fight if need be. A dress will not help me run from the Saxons any faster. I have had enough of men who are savages."

The women fell silent for a moment, letting the words sink in. They knew the Saxons were on their tail. They knew the chatter among the knights and knew they may not make it to the Wall before the savages were upon them. But they did not want to think about what would happen if they did. Evony knew what the Saxon creed was. Kill everything. Leave no man, woman, or child alive. As much as she wanted to live, she at least took a little comfort in the fact that they chose death for their victims instead of cruel forms of torture. Never the less, Evony wouldn't go down without a fight.

Fulcinia broke the silence, motioning for Guinevere to take her turn and be bathed. As the pict took her position, Evony grabbed up a thick fur and left the comfort of the cart to stretch her legs. She was in great need to work out the kinks and knots in her muscles.

The air was crisp, the wind whipping snow carelessly about. Evony walked along silently, avoiding campfires, and finally found herself standing beside a velvety black mare.

"Shhhh, shhhhh," she cooed to the animal, holding her hand out in front of her.

The mare stomped her hooves restlessly before sniffing and nuzzling her hand. She was a beautiful warhorse. Her mane was like silk and her body solid and agile. Evony caressed the animal's head, letting it nuzzle her furs as it searched her for food.

"She likes you," Evony jumped at the sudden voice behind her. She turned swiftly to meet the dark gaze of the First Knight.

"She doesn't like many people," he continued, watching her with a slight smile.

"I'm sure she has her reasons to be wary of others," Evony replied, continuing to pet the animal's nose.

Lancelot walked forward and held out an apple for his steed. She hungrily ate the ruby red fruit from his hand, crunching and licking up every little morsel.

"I am Lancelot," he introduced himself.

"Evony," she replied, "Thank you, sir, for saving my life this day." She hadn't been able to thank him before.

"It is but my duty, dear Lady," he said, looking at her thoughtfully, "What, pray tell, were you doing down there anyway?"

"Lord Marius dislikes women who speak their mind," Evony looked away, "And for a woman who refuses to share his bed, he takes it upon himself and his men to teach them a lesson." Evony met Lancelot's eyes once more, letting the anger she felt for the disgusting excuse of a man go unhidden.

"He is as many Romans are. I am sorry you had to endure such pain," Lancelot's words softened her rage.

Evony swallowed the knot of pain that had suddenly welled in her throat and turned her attention back to the horse as she asked, "And your Arthur? What of him? Is he not a Roman?"

To this, Lancelot smiled, "Arthur is a Roman and a Briton. He longs for a Rome that does not exist. I am not sure it ever truly existed in the first place. But he is an honorable knight and a good friend. He is a rarity among both his people."

"Guinevere seems to think him a savior," Evony prodded.

Lancelot smirked and offered another smile, "Arthur does not think himself a savior, just a visionary. But the Woad girl may be the end of him. I cannot blame him when confronted with such beauty. He is a man, just like I."

Evony felt that intense gaze once more, searching for a response. Her eyes raised to his for one instant.

"I should get back to the wagon. The hour grows late and I am sure we will be making an early morning of it. Excuse me, my lord." Evony bowed her head and departed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The morning found the forest covered in a blanket of white. The snow fell gracefully through the trees as the sun began to seep through the clouded sky. The serenity of the moment was short lived. Evony and Guinevere were awakened to the sound of men fighting and Lucan screaming "No!"

The two women emerged to see Dagonet surrounded by Marius' Roman Devils. They were the very same ones that had plagued Evony. Marius stood menacingly with a strong hold on young Lucan, pressing a blade to the boy's neck.

"I have the boy!" Marius said, his true nature ringing loud and clear.

Evony could feel Guinevere disappear beside her. Looking around, she didn't see the other knights, and Dagonet was painfully outnumbered five to one. He looked like a feral beast, about to strike at anything that moved. Without thinking, she approached the Roman Mercenary in front of her and kicked him hard in the back of the knee. As he fell to the ground, Evony pulled his blade from his scabbard and pummeled the man just under the neck with the hilt of the sword.

As the Roman soldier slumped to the ground, she heard Marius order, "Kill him!"

Fulcinia raced to her husband, attempting to stop him from hurting the boy. Before Evony could react, she heard the swift whoosh of an arrow fly past. In a matter of seconds the bolt landed deep in the chest of Marius Honorius. Turning, Evony saw Guinevere caulk another arrow. Evony held her stolen sword at the ready while Fulcinia, ever the faithful wife, bent to cradle her husbands dying body. Dagonet pulled Lucan off to the side and swiftly pulled his sword from the scabbard with a growl.

Arthur and Lancelot approached the women from behind, slow and calm. Lancelot nodded greeting to Evony before slyly looking at Guinevere.

"Your hands seem to be better," he said with a smirk, his twin swords crossed lazily over his shoulders.

Guinevere ignored the remark and let another arrow fly at the feet of the Roman guards who attempted to take a step forward.

"ARTORIUS!" Evony could hear the portly knight, Bors, roar as he galloped into the tense circle with his axe raised, "Do we have a problem?"

"You have a choice," Arthur pointed his sword, Excalibur, at the Romans, "You help or you die."

Arthur's threat made the Roman mercenaries bones shiver.

"Put down your weapons," their commander said nervously.

The Roman company hesitated.

"DO IT NOW!" the commander shouted, followed by a mighty growl from Dagonet.

The Roman company obeyed and Arthur gave his attendant, Jols, a nod to collect their weaponry.

Hooves could be heard fast approaching. Evony turned to see the thin scout, Tristan, as he returned from his mission.

"How many did you kill?" Bors asked him.

"Four," Tristan replied.

"Not a bad start to the day!" Bors laughed deeply.

The scout stopped short in front of Arthur and dropped a heavy looking crossbow on the ground.

"Armor piercing," Tristan said with urgency, "They're close. We have no time."

"You ride ahead," Arthur ordered and began to bark orders and make ready the caravan to leave.

Evony handed the Roman sword to Jols as he passed by. Quickly, before anyone would notice, she bent and snatched up the Saxon crossbow that Tristan had dropped. This machine she would study. It may be useful very soon.

At least an hour ride later, the caravan had reached a vast frozen lake. Arthur ordered everyone to spread out along the ice in an attempt to distribute the weight evenly. Evony and Guinevere hopped from their cart and carefully tread on the slippery surface.

"Are you still glad you chose your fine gown, my lady Guinevere?" Evony teased as she nimbly stepped to and fro on the frozen water. Evony had to wonder at the vanity of the girl, whose people were known to paint themselves blue and wear next to nothing in war.

Guinevere just smiled as she tried not to trip on the flowing fabric.

The knights paused ahead of them. The sound of drums in the distance and the deep sound of cracking ice could be heard. The horses grew restless, as did the caravan of people. Everyone stood stock still, waiting for orders.

"Knights," Arthur asked the inevitable of his men. Their goal on this mission had been to secure the Roman family, but Arthur had done so much more by taking on the peasants of the Roman compound. If any of them were to survive the Saxons following them, a decision had to be made at this moment.

"Well I'm tired of running," Bors said decidedly, "And these Saxons are so close behind my ass is hurtin'."

"Never liked looking over my shoulder anyway." Tristan confirmed.

"Be a pleasure to put an end to this racket!" the blond, scruffy knight, Gawain agreed.

"And finally get a look at the bastards," the youngest, doe-eyed knight, Galahad added.

"Here. Now." Dagonet said the final word. Arthur's knights would not desert him. Despite their hesitation to take on so many people on an impossible mission, they would not let innocent folk die at the hands of the Saxons. They would give them every chance of survival, even if it meant giving their own lives.

Arthur looked with stern determination and called for his attendant to make ready their weapons, "Jols!"

Jols began to give out orders for horse transport and lead a few men to unload bows and arrows for the knights' defense.

"Ganis," Arthur called to the brave peasant who had stood up for himself at Marius' estate, "I need you to lead the people. The main Saxon army is inland, so if you track the coastline till you're well south of the wall, you'll be safe."

"But you are seven against 200," Ganis said in disbelief.

"Eight," chimed in Guinevere, stepping forward holding her robes in hand, "You could use another bow."

"Make that nine," Evony followed and sneered at the Roman mercenaries as she passed, "I'd rather a hoard of Saxon's for company than these devils."

"I'd rather stay and fight," Ganis argued.

"You'll get your chance soon enough," Arthur reassured him and then turned toward the Romans in the caravan, "This man is now your Captain! You do as he says, am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," one of them said quickly.

"Go," Arthur ordered, "Go!"

Ganis eyed Evony before he turned to leave. Quickly, he unrolled a pack and handed it to the girl.

"Evony, I was able to save this for you. I didn't think you wanted the Romans to have it." Ganis said quickly and held out a shining blade with hilt made of the finest silver in the shape of a wolf's head.

Evony's eyes shined with appreciation. She had been afraid she lost it forever when the Romans had chained her in their dungeon.

"Thank you, Ganis. You are truly a knight at heart!" she said and took her father's sword from the wrappings.

"Thank you for everything," she said and gave him a brief hug, "May the Gods be with you."

"And also with you, Evony," Ganis said as he gave a weary look behind them before turning and shouting orders to his new company of Roman mercenaries.

Evony ran to the cart and grabbed the crossbow she had commandeered. Returning to the front line she began making her weapons ready. Her father's sword she laid at her feet, ready to grasp at a moments notice if the Saxons drew too close. The crossbow, she fitted with an arrow stolen from Guinevere's quiver and set it on the ice next to her sword. Smiling, she took up one of the bows that Jols had laid out for her. It had been quite a long time since she held the likes of it. A Sarmatian bow. Evony shouldered the quiver of arrows, knowing it would be quicker for her to pull from her shoulder than to keep bending for an arrow. Quickly she braided her hair to one side and stood at the ready, bow in hand.

The drums grew louder and the small group could see the Saxons begin to spread across the ice like an army of ants till they suddenly came to a halt.

"Hold until I give the command," Arthur ordered.

Lancelot glanced at Guinevere and Evony and could see the tension building.

"You look frightened," he said mockingly to Guinevere, "There's a large number of lonely men out there."

With a sideways glance the pict sarcastically said, "Don't worry, I won't let them rape you."

Evony scowled at their remarks. Neither one of them knew the bounds of what they were talking about. Lancelot picked up on Evony's discomfort as she drew her bowstring tighter and offered an apologetic glance before focusing his attention on the Saxon hoard.

An arrow from one of the Saxon archers flew through the air and landed halfway between the opposing forces, skidding on the ice.

Evony smirked. Silly Saxons.

"I believe they're waiting for an invitation. Bors, Tristan." Arthur ordered and the knights drew their bows.

"They're far out of range," Guinevere argued.

Lancelot caught the sideways smirk that Evony gave the pict and raised an eyebrow. Bors and Tristan let their arrows fly, the wooden shafts singing their way to the hearts of Saxon men. Guinevere held her tongue as Arthur gave her his own sideways glance.

"Sarmatian bows," Evony said with a smile, "long distances bear no burden for these instruments of war."

The Saxon army began marching forward and their small group took aim.

"Aim for the wings of the ranks. Make them cluster." Arthur ordered.

Arrows whistled and Saxons began to drop as the group worked to cluster them in hopes the ice would swallow them whole. To no avail, the army continued to march closer and closer.

"It's not going to break. Back. Fall Back! Prepare for combat!" Arthur ordered urgently.

The small company of knights and women exchanged their bows for swords and readied themselves for the inevitable fight.

Out of the corner of her eye, Evony could see Dagonet nervously shifting his sword in his hands before exchanging it for his axe and charging forward with a mighty roar.

"Dag!" Bors yelled.

"Cover him," Arthur ordered and the group knelt down to pick up their bows once more.

Instead of her bow, Evony slung the loaded crossbow over her shoulder and grabbed for Lancelot and Tristan's shields. Before anyone could stop her she was running furiously after Dagonet, praying to all her Gods that the giant's plan would work before they were all killed.

"Evony!" she could hear Lancelot call her name but it was too late.

As Dagonet swung wildly at the ice with his mighty axe, Evony ran and slid on her knees to him, holding the shields out to block the oncoming bolts from the Saxon army. She came to a stop and easily maneuvered the shields in front of herself and Dagonet. Crossbow bolts flew and connected with the shields, making Evony struggle to maintain her footing on the slippery ice. One of the bolts bit through the tip of a shield and struck Dagonet deep in his ribcage. He faltered a moment and fell to one knee just as the ice began to crack.

"Dag!" Bors voice rang over the ice as Arthur tried to run full sprint to his fallen brother.

Arrows began to fly from both sides now. Evony wasted no time. She dropped one of the shields and swung the crossbow around her torso. Anchoring it to her side with one hand and balancing the weight of the bow on her knee, she took aim and managed to hit the Saxon in the forefront who had the most advantage with his bow. Dropping it to the ground, she quickly picked up the second shield and repositioned herself as Dagonet staggered to stand and strike the ice once more. As Evony struggled to defend the giant from further injury, she heard Dagonet give one last roar and the ice gave way. Evony's footing faltered as the ice parted under her feet. She dropped one of the shields to get a hold of something and felt a strong arm grasp her wrist just as she began sinking into the icy cold water. Dagonet struggled to pull her from the water, his wound bleeding freely as he winced from pain.

Arthur reached the knightly giant and pulled, heaving the man further from the hole and dragging Evony with him. Bors managed to make it to them, shield in hand, and took hold of Dagonet. Evony regained her footing and held her remaining shield up to guard them against the last of the flying Saxon arrows.

Moments later, shouts and screams could be heard over the cracking ice as Saxon men were swallowed whole. Arthur and Bors dragged Dagonet across the ice. Evony shimmied along with them, still holding the shield in case the Saxons decided they wanted more. A bright red trail of blood pooled along the ice behind them.

Guinevere let one last arrow fly and hit her target square in the chest. Her fury at the injured and possibly dead knight was obvious.

The Saxon army ceased their fire and began to collect themselves. At least half of their number had been swallowed by the ice or struck down by arrows. The other half had either been lucky or would likely succumb to hypothermia soon.

"Dagonet!" Bors yelled as the giant man wove in and out of consciousness once a safe distance away.

"Let me see," Evony said urgently, trying to push the knights out of the way, "Make way! Let me see him! I can help!"

Her training had been limited, but she had grown up with knights and learned enough about sword and arrow injuries to at least attempt to help Dagonet.

Evony quickly pulled aside Dagonet's armor and reached for the dagger he kept at his ankle. She slice through the blood soaked tunic and gently felt the space around the arrow shaft. Dagonet winced with pain. The arrow was deep, but if it didn't come out he would die for sure.

"Guinevere, give me some shreds of your fine dress," Evony ordered, "Bors, give him your belt."

As Guinevere quickly tore the bottom of her dress to make bandages for Dagonet's wounds, Bors removed one of the leather straps from his waist and held it in Dagonet's mouth.

"I am sorry, dear giant," Evony apologized as she took a firm hold of the arrow shaft and pulled hard. The arrow came free and Dagonet yelled as he bit down on the strap. "This is going to hurt!" Evony finished her sentence and quickly dove two fingers into the gaping wound in Dagonet's ribs. This sent the man mad with agony and Arthur and Gawain had to hold him down with all their weight. Evony tried to make quick work of it as her nimble fingers assessed the injury.

"The arrow has missed his organs," she tenderly dug against the struggling man, "And his ribs are in tact."

Evony withdrew her fingers and quickly grabbed the newly made bandages. Holding a good wad of the bandages firmly to the bleeding wound she ordered Arthur to hold pressure. She would have to bind the wound tightly until they could get to safer ground for her to tend to him properly. Quickly she wrapped the rest of the bandages around his torso and used a couple of his belt straps to tighten and hold everything in place.

"We should move him carefully. I can't help him any more until I find nettles, Devil's scourge and oak bark. If we had oregano or rosemary it would be good. And we need water and more bandages." Evony said to Arthur as she stood.

"We'll find cover ahead. Bors, Gawain, Galahad, get him to a horse. Ride with him, Bors," Arthur began barking commands, "Tristan, can you find what Evony needs?"

"Faster than a heartbeat," the scout declared and ran off towards his horse in the distance.

"Lets get moving. The Saxons will take a while regrouping but it's safer to put a little distance between us. We need to find safe ground to camp." Arthur ordered.

Evony suddenly felt a shiver of cold run through her veins and she realized that she was freezing. Her legs were soaking wet and very much numb. She raised her shaking hands to warm them and realized they were covered with blood.

"Evony," she heard Lancelot's soft voice as he approached her and draped her with a thick fur cloak, "Come, you'll ride with me."

Evony nodded as the dark knight wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to his horse while the company gathered their weapons and headed out. He helped her onto the sleek mare's back and climbed up behind her. She was cold, but the warmth of his body behind her helped immensely as he wrapped his arms around her and gripped the reigns.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Lancelot rode in silence as they searched for safer ground. He wondered at the bravery of the small woman in front of him. She was only 5'3" and slight of build, but it seemed her spirit could rival that of a Sarmatian knight. He could not help but be drawn to her since he had rescued her from her shackles. Her dark, long locks, her deep brown eyes, mimicked his own and made him question exactly where she had come from. He had seen many women of Briton and Roman descent, but none had ever looked quite like her. She was breathtaking in her silent mystery. He felt the oddest sensation to hold on and never let go. He felt her shiver in front of him and he wrapped the fur tighter and held her as close as he could.

"There, past the formation of rocks. The wood grows thick. We can defend ourselves on the mound and make camp in the small clearing," Arthur declared as he rode back to the company from scouting ahead.

Bors nodded and led Dagonet's horse with its burden carefully. Galahad flanked the horse on the other side, making good measure that the giant did not fall.

The knights and brave ladies reached their destination shortly after and began preparations. Dagonet was carefully lifted from his steed and laid on a soft patch of snow while Galahad and Gawain set to making a rudimentary lean-to to house him under.

Lancelot hopped quickly to the ground and carefully helped Evony down from the mare.

"Sit here. I will build a fire," he wrapped the fur around her tighter again.

Evony nodded, trying to conserve her body heat now that she no longer was next to Lancelot. She glanced over at Dagonet and noticed his breathing was shallow. She hoped that Tristan would return soon with the things she needed.

In moments, Lancelot had made a roaring fire out of some dry wood that he had collected. Evony scooted closer to the heat and let her feet rest on a rock in front of the flames. She was determined to get her clothing dry while she still wore it before her limbs froze over.

Bors made another fire close to the lean-to and helped Galahad move Dagonet to the bed of pine they had made for him to rest on.

Tristan returned at least a half hour after, treading carefully in the underbrush to avoid tripping his horse on rocks and roots.

"What say you," Arthur stood, jaw clenched with worry.

"I've found all but oregano. We are not in Rome, but hopefully Rosemary will do," Tristan said as he quickly dismounted and handed Evony a small satchel filled with the medicinal herbs.

Arthur held out his hand to help Evony up from the fire and lead her to Dagonet, "Lets hope you have as much skill as Dagonet. Save him, my lady, and we will all be in your debt."

"I will do what I can, my Lord," she knelt under the lean-to and opened the pack to inspect it's contents.

"Let me help," Guinevere appeared next to her, "Tell me what you wish me to do."

"We will need hot water. Boil the rosemary and set it to steep. Then make a tea of the devil's scourge," Evony grabbed a stray bandage and picked the nettles up carefully so as not to sting her fingers. Guinevere hopped to her task, finding a skin of water and rummaging through saddlebags till she found something suitable to boil some water with the herbs.

Evony found a smooth, flat rock and held it over the fire as long as she could. She poured water over the surface and laid out the nettles and oak bark in a pile. Taking Dagonet's dagger, she carefully ground the nettles and bark to a pulp. When she was done, she rose swiftly and approached Lancelot.

"I need a hair from your horse's mane," she said to him, "I need to find a way to sew the wound closed."

Lancelot nodded and fetched her a hair from his horse's mane. On his way back to her he paused, talking with Arthur. Arthur looked over his shoulder at Evony, nodded, and handed Lancelot something.

"Here, my lady, this should serve as your needle and thread," Lancelot placed the horsehair and a brooch pin in Evony's hand.

"Thank you, Sir Lancelot. I wasn't sure I'd find a pin bone so easily," Evony bowed in gratitude before turning back to her charge.

"Bors, I think we will need you and Galahad's help again," Evony said when she was finished gathering supplies.

"At your service, my lady," Bors said, kneeling down at Dagonet's shoulders and readying his belt once more. Galahad took position at Dagonet's legs, careful to give Evony room to work.

"The rosemary is ready, Evony," Guinevere carefully brought a small cup holding the infused liquid.

Evony carefully unwrapped the bandages from Dagonet's wound. They were soaked through but the wound bled at a slower pace. She quickly poured some water over the opening and carefully wiped the flesh with a clean cloth. Dagonet winced and jumped uncomfortably. Next she took the cup of rosemary and poured the liquid directly onto the wound. She put pressure on the opening, pulling the flesh slightly apart and took care to pour the liquid inside as well. Dagonet jumped and bit down on the belt. Evony watched as small bubbles mixed with blood seeped from the wound. At least the rosemary concoction would cleanse the injury and help keep infection from setting in as fast. Silently, Evony said a prayer before starting her next administrations. She carefully took the brooch that Arthur supplied in her hands. It was a Roman artifact of some odd looking face. Perhaps it was a medal of honor. No matter, it would serve as her needle. Evony snapped the sharp pin off the bauble and held it in the flames of the fire between two small sticks. Before the sticks could burn away, she withdrew the needle and set it in the cup of Rosemary water. As steam sizzled away before she lifted the needle and fastened the long horsehair to the end of it.

"Hold him steady. This will hurt," Evony warned Bors and Galahad. Guinevere sat next to her with cloth at the ready to wipe up blood.

Evony stabbed into Dagonet's skin with the makeshift needle and looped it through the other side of the wound in a cross stitch as though she were sewing a stuffed pig together for a feast. Dagonet yelled out and his brothers struggled to hold the giant down. Evony worked as quick as she could, making sure the wound was completely closed before tying off the end of her suture and cutting the excess off with the dagger. She poured more of the antiseptic rosemary liquid over the wound and blotted it with a rag. Grabbing the dagger, she scooped up a small pile of oak bark and nettle on the tip of the blade and began to smear the crushed concoction over the wound. The nettles would sting but they would help slow the bleeding, as would the oak bark. She spread the crushed herbs thick over the wound and grabbed a clean bandage to cover the poultice before bandaging the knight once again. When she was done, Dagonet was barely conscious, his brow hot and dotted with sweat.

"Guinevere, the tea," Evony asked and the pict handed her another cup.

Bors removed the leather belt from his friend's mouth and held his head up to help him drink.

"Dagonet, you must drink this. It will help with your fever and take away the pain," Evony hoped the giant man could understand her.

Dagonet drank the devils scourge tea slowly before laying his head back and falling into a deep dark sleep.

"Will he be alright, lady?" Bors asked, his voice laced with worry.

"My knowledge is not that of a master healer, but I have done what I can. He has a fever and the wound is deep. If the Gods are on our side he will make it till we reach the Wall and your healing rooms. Time will tell." Evony didn't try to sugar coat the truth. If infection set in then Dagonet's fate would almost certainly be sealed unless tended by a skilled healer. Her meager triage wouldn't be enough to hold death at bay.

"He needs someone to take watch over him," Evony said as she sat back and stretched her spine.

"I will stay with him," Bors volunteered. Dagonet was his best friend and closer than a brother. They promised each other they would ride home together, and Bors intended to hold him to it.

"Keep his brow cool. Let me know if the bandages soak through," Evony told the knight before excusing herself. Guinevere followed and handed Evony a wet cloth.

"To clean your hands," she said with small smile, trying to comfort Evony.

"Thank you," Evony said as she cleaned the layers of dried blood and herbs off her fingers and under her nails before pouring the contents of a nearby water skin over her hands to remove the last of the dirt.

Evony stood and suddenly realized how tired and hungry she was.

"Come," Guinevere said, motioning to another fire that Arthur had set, "There is food waiting for us. You need to eat."

Evony followed her to the fire and took a seat as close as she dared to the flames. She was still damp and cold, but had fought her discomfort to tend to the giant knight.

"Rabbit," Tristan announced as he handed Evony a skewer of meat and some bread.

"Thank you," she replied and ate the meal hungrily.

"My lady, thank you again for helping our brother," Arthur said, meeting her eyes across the fire, "What you did, out there on the ice and just now, was brave. We are grateful."

Evony shrugged as she chewed her meat, "It is but a small gesture to offer for saving my life, my Lord." Her simple words fell as she dropped her gaze from the green eyed Roman.

Evony didn't feel that gratitude was necessary. Her actions had been a result of her own life experiences. Her attempts to save this knight, this Sarmatian knight, was but a small part of her duty and personal honor for saving her life. The other part, the most important part, was that she knew he was a good man who deserved saving.

As night fell, Arthur organized his men to watch and their small company settled themselves down to rest. Evony had retired to the fire that Lancelot had set for her previously. It was close to a comfortable log and shielded nicely from the wind by large tree trunks. Her legs were finally dry and the cold was not as devastating as earlier. She settled down, her back against the log and stared into the fire, wrapping her fur cloak tightly around her.

"A lady should not sleep alone," Lancelot's voice startled Evony to attention and she looked at the dark knight sharply. It was well known that Arthur's first knight was somewhat of a womanizer. Rumors said that women flocked to his feet and warmed his bed with one glance of his cheeky grin. Evony did not deny that his smile was attractive, but she was not a woman that fell for such tricks that easily.

"I mean, my lady, that you should not sleep alone in the woods for fear of marauders," Lancelot blushed. He had not meant that first comment to sound as suggestive as it had.

Evony gave him a sideways glance before relaxing, "No, my lord, I guess that wouldn't be very wise."

"May I join you in company? My brothers are keeping lookout and it seems as though Guinevere is keeping Arthur's attention." Lancelot asked raising an eyebrow and motioning to where Guinevere sat huddled next to Arthur.

Evony smiled. The pict girl was relentless. Evony knew she would win the heart of the green-eyed commander yet. Evony nodded her consent to Lancelot and watched as the knight sat himself down as close to Evony as he dared. The two stared in silence at the flickering flames for a moment. Lancelot fiddled with a pine needle in his hands and looked at Evony with those dark, questioning eyes again.

"My Lady, if I may be so bold, you perplex me. How is it you have come to such great knowledge of war and medicine?" Lancelot asked, studying her with his dark eyes. He had seen her skill practiced only on the battlefield by other soldiers, or in the healing houses of the Wall. Had she been an apprentice in her time to a healer?

Evony leaned forward to poke the fire, her long dark hair falling in a blanket over her shoulder and said, "I am a product of my upbringing, my lord. I am the daughter of a Sarmatian Knight, raised on battlefields from Rome to Briton."

Lancelot waited for her to continue, leaning back against the log with arms crossed in front of his broad armor clad chest. Evony bowed her head before deciding to give in to the knight's questioning glances.

"My father's name was Adalwolf. The Romans came when I was five. My father was one of the few left of our tribe. Most our numbers had moved on or joined neighboring villages. My father was the last able-bodied man among us. He convinced the Romans to take me with them. My mother died when I was two and I had no one else. He told the Commander that I would make a good stable hand and tend to the horses. My father was grateful that they allowed him to keep me, but he was wary of the Romans and their intentions. I grew up traveling from fort to fort, wherever they stationed him. I watched my father fight Roman battles and before long, he put a sword in my hand and bid me swing away," Evony peered at Lancelot listening intently to her story, his eyes glimmering with fascination.

"My father said that I was the descendant of Amazons and it was only fitting that I learned how to fight like one. I don't know that I believe him, but I learned how to wield a blade and a bow all the same," Evony let the corner of her mouth turn upwards as she remembered her father fondly calling her is little Amazon princess. "We made our way with the Roman army across the territories. My father fought many battles, some more tragic than others. I watched many a healer tend to my father and his fellow knights. I learned what I could out of necessity. In times of great tragedy, more than one healing hand was needed with the Roman company. I learned enough to patch up a wound, but I am no great healer."

"A Sarmatian girl. Now that makes sense," Lancelot mused, his eyes revealing his intrigue. "Why did you not return to Sarmatia with your father? Surely his time was over long ago?"

"My father's time never ended. Some time after we reached Briton he was injured in battle. His wounds left him crippled in one leg and he was considered unfit to be en effective soldier. The Romans took advantage of his state. They enlisted him as their smith. He had some skill in the trade from his days in Sarmatia. He used to work the fires at our village before I was born. The Roman commanders traded his services and we travelled where we were told. They said that since my father could no longer fight, and his skill was worth more than death, that he would be indentured to their mercy for sparing his life. They made slaves of us and traded us from household to household when their battles were over." Evony's jaw set with anger as she said the last bit.

"My father died serving animals. He was not as lucky as you and your brothers to have such an honorable commander as Arthur," she looked at Lancelot, sadness filling her gaze.

Lancelot nodded his head in accord. Indeed, he and his fellow Sarmatian Knights had been lucky to be a part of Arthur's company. There was no other Roman that treated them with respect and equality. To others, they were hard, trained animals – tools of war. To Arthur, they were brothers in arms and family at heart. That was something to honor in a man.

"It was Marius' estate then? Where your father lost his life?" Lancelot asked gently.

Evony nodded and stared back at the fire, trying not to let her emotions show. After all, it hadn't been that long ago that her father had been killed.

"My father died trying to protect my honor from Marius' dogs. He killed the high commander in the scuffle. They ran him through without hesitation," she blinked back her tears, "Marius said that I would be retained to keep his bed warm. I spat in his face and branded him in the belly with a poker from my fathers forge. That's when his dogs seized me and chained me in their holy prison." Evony's jaw clenched as she admitted to her abuse, "Marius' said that I would learn my place. I was beaten by his dogs and his priests. They tried to break my spirit and my innocence. The only thing they left in peace was my hands. I had been my fathers apprentice all my life and his forge was no different. They figured they could beat submission into me and use my skill later."

She held her hands up and turned to look at the dark knight. Lancelot's heart burned with rage. He may be a knight, but never had he allowed a woman to be treated so badly in his life. A woman should be treated with honor and respect, for they were the givers of life. His creed, passed down from his father and his father's father, was what distinguished him as a man and not a beast.

"I am sorry you have had to endure such pain," he said, his voice laced with ire before softening and leaning to take her hands in his, "But you will not have to endure such pain again. On my honor I swear I will see to that."

Evony stared at his hands clasping hers, felt his calloused fingers holding tight, and somehow believed in his word. He may have bedded many a beauty, but Evony got the feeling that his intentions towards her were not based on that train of thought. He was a man of his word and honor. She was flattered that this stranger would take on the responsibility of protecting her from further hurt. However she wondered what would happen after they reached the Wall. Evony was sure that they would go their separate ways. She just wasn't sure which way she wanted to go yet.

Evony smiled softly letting her hands linger in his for a moment longer, "You are kind, my Lord. I am grateful for your generosity." She slowly withdrew her hands from his warmth and turned to him, "Tell me about you, good knight. What of your papers? Surely your contract with Rome ends soon?"

Lancelot smiled a wry smile and picked up another pine needle to fiddle with, "My service to Rome, as well as my brothers in arms, is over. Or it should be. Rome denies our freedom until we deliver the Honorius family safely to the Wall." He threw the pine needle into the fire with frustration, "We are to receive our papers when we return."

"And what will you do with your freedom, good sir?" Evony offered a smile to ease his irritation.

His eyes softened and the corners of his mouth turned up, "We shall return to Sarmatia, naturally. It has been too long since last I lay eyes on my family. I wish to see my sister and my mother and father if they still live."

Lancelot bowed his head and he fingered the wolf pendant that hung by a tether from his neck. Evony could see the inner struggle that he didn't voice aloud. He wished to go home, but he wasn't sure there was a home to go to anymore. He had been gone so long from Sarmatia, he didn't feel like he belonged to it anymore. But he didn't feel like he belonged to Briton either. He only hoped that when he received his papers, his journey home would change his feelings.

"Will you return home to Sarmatia, or will you stay here?" he asked her.

Evony answered the handsome knight the only way she could, "I have no home. The home I knew died with my father."

She saw the knight's strong jaw set with sadness. Lancelot felt sorry for asking, but he couldn't help but understand.

"My father used to tell me that home isn't always the land you live on or the air you breath. It's the love you share and where you keep your heart. You can be miles away from the land you were born to, but if your heart belongs to another, then there resides your true home," Evony said with confidence.

"Your father was a wise man," Lancelot told her. Her words rang true to his heart. He loved his family and the land that he called home, but he wasn't sure that his heart resided there anymore. If it did not, then where exactly, was home?

Lancelot caught Evony shiver under her fur cloak. The fire was dying down but they couldn't afford to build it up again less the Saxons had scouts about. Already, they were risking much by even having fires this night.

"Come, it's a cold night and you've been cold enough for one day," Lancelot held his thick wool cloak open, inviting Evony to draw near.

Evony raised an eyebrow at him.

"Don't worry," Lancelot reassured her, "I don't bite. It will be warmer if we are near. I will not do anything to dishonor you, I swear."

Evony hesitated before shifting to sit next to Lancelot and lean into his arm. She removed the thick fur and draped it over them as he drew his wool cape around her tightly. The fur worked effectively at trapping their body heat and bracing them against the cold.

Lancelot held Evony close and could smell the oils that the Roman lady had rubbed into her skin and hair. He could feel her breath in his arms, slowly but surely relaxing until she drifted off to sleep. He glanced down at her long thick eyelashes, half moons on her beautiful face. Lancelot's thoughts returned to her words about home. If he went back to Sarmatia, he would want to find a good woman to share his bed and raise a family of his own. It would be an empty life if he didn't. If he stayed here, in Briton, he would want the same things. But he had not found his heart in another. Not yet at least. Would he wander lost? Forever a knight? He held Evony tighter. He had given her his word that he would protect her. There was that something about her that he couldn't pinpoint. The thing that made him want to keep her close, to make sure she was safe and taken care of. He had many women share his bed and fall for his smile, but Evony was different. She was full of strength beyond reason, and a heart that seemed to beat out the song of her soul. He felt oddly at ease with her there in his arms, something he wasn't used to in others he had known more intimately than her. She deserved more than cheeky smiles and flattery. She deserved a home. He would try his hardest to keep her safe so she could find it.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The way back to the Wall was cold and bleak. The small company of nine caught up to the main caravan the next morning, but it took them three days to make it to the Roman fort of Camboglanna on Hadrian's Wall. Though Evony did everything she could for the giant knight, Dagonet lay ill with fever. His brothers in arms kept a close watch on him, lest he slip away in the night.

As the knights and the caravan wearily trod through the main gates of the fort, Bishop Germanus and his Roman entourage greeted them.

"Ah, God! Christ be praised! Against all the odds Satan could muster. Alecto, let me see you!" the Bishop said, approaching the family's wagon to greet the young master Honorius with open arms.

"Kindly get out of my way!" the Bishop's manservant, Horton, huffed through from the caravan. He had not enjoyed his mandatory journey with Arthur and his knights one bit.

"You have triumphed! Young Alecto, let me see you!" Bishop Germanus said again, reaching for the young Roman who was shying away from his grasp. "You are here!"

As Lancelot helped Evony down from his horse, she heard Guinevere shout, "Lucan!"

The boy ran through the gates searching for Dagonet. He had not been let near the fallen giant since they had rejoined the caravan. Instead, he rode with the family in the safety of their cart.

"You, boy! Stop!" a Roman officer shouted as Lucan ran past. The officer was immediately halted with the blade of Galahad's dagger at his throat. The boy had become a child of the knights by default for his affection toward Dagonet. No Roman would be allowed to deny him passage, lest he wish to lose his head.

Guinevere followed Lucan to Dagonet, draped carefully over his horse still burning from fever. The Bishop watched on as tears began to stream down Lucan's face while the little boy grabbed onto the large hand of the unconscious knight. Evony glanced around and noticed that all the Sarmatian knights were at attention, ready to strike down any Roman that denied the boy a moment with his savior. Their aggression was a result of stress, not knowing if their brother would make it through the fever or welcome death's embrace.

Bishop Germanus sensed the tension and chuckled, his arms still spread wide as if he were presenting a holy address to his congregation, "Our great knights! You are free now! Give me the papers! Come, come."

The bishop motioned to one of his guard for the knight's papers. A Roman officer brought forth a wooden box with its edges gilded in gold. Opening the lid, Evony saw the treasured scrolls of freedom fastened inside. It was a freedom that her father had never known.

"Your papers of safe conduct throughout the Roman Empire," Bishop Germanus couldn't hide his nervousness behind his toothy smile. He looked to Arthur for assistance, "Take it, Arthur."

Arthur stepped forward and stood uncomfortably close to the Bishop, wiping the smile off the shorter mans face immediately.

"Bishop Germanus, friend of my father," Arthur seethed as a warning before walking away.

Lancelot walked forward and seized the scrolls of paper in his hands. Turning, he handed a scroll to each of his brothers.

"You are free now," the Bishop informed them, "You can go."

Lancelot gave Evony a very grave glance as he passed by her and stood in front of Bors with two scrolls in hand. The portly knight was shaking with anger, his eyes tearing up at the thought that his best friend may not live to truly be free.

"Bors," Lancelot said in a quiet tone of voice. When Bors did not acknowledge him, Lancelot nudged him with the scrolls and tried again, "Bors!" Finally, Bors looked at him, "For Dagonet."

Bors looked down at the scrolls and grabbed them from Lancelot angrily, "This doesn't make him a free man. He's already a free man." Bors eyes glittered and his body shook with rage as he swung his glance towards the Romans.

"We all are!" Bors threw the scrolls at the Bishops feet in disgust and walked off. If it weren't for the Bishop ordering them to complete this last mission, Dagonet would not be struggling to hold on to life.

Gawain stepped forward and picked the scrolls up from the ground as Lancelot and Galahad lifted Dagonet from his horse and carried him to the master healer. Evony followed close behind.

"You have done well, girl," Valentius, the master healer at the wall, said as he inspected Dagonet's wound. "But he has succumbed to fever. When the bolt came out, it was whole, yes?"

Evony nodded, "Yes, there were no chips in the head or the staff."

"Mmmm," Valentius nodded as he studied Dagonet's complexion and the sutures.

"Will he be alright?" asked Bors, standing next to Dagonet's bedside, worry painted on his face.

"If his fever breaks, he will live," Valentius nodded, "I will tend to him now. Leave us in peace."

Valentius waved Lancelot, Galahad and Evony out of the surgery room of the healing house. He tried to persuade Bors to go, but the man would not budge until he knew his friend would be well.

"Come," Lancelot told Evony, "I will show you where you can stay."

Evony followed the knight from the healing houses, studying everything around her the fort had to offer. It's walls were stone and at least 20 feet high. It was the largest Roman fort she had ever been in. Healing houses were across the way from the Commanding officer's quarters. There was a space inside the wall for civilian quarters that housed attendants for the officers and militia. The workshops, granary, stables and a tavern were all lined in a row, and a large garrison was stationed in the far left corner of the complex. All the buildings were situated in a horseshoe shape to surround a large courtyard in the entryway of the main gate.

Lancelot led Evony to the civilian quarters where Bors' woman, Vanora, had made a room ready for Evony. Lancelot smiled as the pretty red head woman stood outside of the room, her latest bastard in her arms.

"Vanora! Thank you for doing this," Lancelot said as he gave the woman an affectionate hug.

"Not a problem, deary. Bors wouldn't have it any other way. Gili! Quit picking on your sister!" The woman yelled at the eldest of her children as she greeted the knight and lady.

Flustered, Vanora turned to Evony, "It's not much, but it's a roof over your head and a warm bed to sleep in. The fire is stoked and if you get hungry come find me at the tavern. I'll have Eoghann fix you a plate. Four! Stop that!" The woman's fourth child was pulling his sisters hair like a pony. "Sorry, love, I've got to tend to the tavern. There are hungry knights to feed!" She smiled and walked off, five of her eleven children trailing behind her.

Lancelot opened the door to Evony's quarters. It was as Vanora said. There wasn't much, but it was warm and dry. A bed sat in the center of the room with a small table to one side. A small fireplace took up the back wall and a stool sat to one side. A basin of water sat on a trunk across from the bed and a meager thread of carpet attempted to make the room homey.

"If you are in need of anything, my lady, please don't hesitate to ask. Arthur has made it known, you are welcome to stay here however long you like," Lancelot ushered Evony into the room.

"Thank you, Sir Lancelot," Evony said as she inspected the space and set her father's sword on her bed.

Before Lancelot could excuse himself the two heard a commotion in the courtyard.

"They are here! The Saxons are here!" one civilian shouted. Others began to echo his dismay.

Lancelot and Evony quickly ran to the courtyard to see what was happening. The peasants from the settlement outside the wall were pouring into the fort. The fear on their faces was real and true. Lancelot and Evony climbed the stairs of the battlement and peered over the wall. The sun had just set and smoke from hundreds of fires could be seen in the distance.

"Damn it all!" Lancelot swore and pounded the stone wall with his fist. His jaw clenched.

Tristan, Gawain, Galahad and Bors soon joined them on the battlement. Their faces fell as they stared upon the Sea of Saxons before them. Evony watched the Roman soldiers on guard stare blankly at the scene in front of them and the peasants below seeking shelter within the great stone walls.

"Call Arthur," Lancelot ordered one of the guards. The guard did not immediately move, provoking the first knight to raise his voice, "Call Arthur! Now! Go!"

The guard stepped to attention.

Moments later, Arthur climbed the steps of the battlement, closely followed by Guinevere. The glow of the Saxon fires lit the night as if it were day. Arthur surveyed his knights and read the worry on their faces. Would Rome ask them for yet another task before granting their freedom? Would Arthur? If they stayed, would they live to see another day and truly know what it was to be free? Would they ever see home again? None of the men would say as much, but even Evony could see the worry in their eyes.

Arthur walked to the edge of the battlement and stared down into the streets of the fort. He stared at the faces of the peasants he had saved and of the citizens of the fort. All looked to him wondering who was in charge. Wondering who would save them now. Arthur's green eyes lingered on Guinevere before straying off to look inward.

"Knights," Arthur said with lingering finality, "My journey with you must end here. May God go with you."

Evony watched as Arthur boldly chose to protect the wall himself. He had finally found what he belonged to. It wasn't the dream of Rome that fueled him. It wasn't the thought of glory in battle. It was the need of a people to survive, to claim their God given right to freedom. It was the need of a land to be free of war. It was the need of a woman who demanded him to be a leader for all those things. His dream of a magnificent and fair Rome may not exist, but he could make it exist for these people. He could give them a protector, someone to believe in, and work to build them the fair and free society they so deserved. But what he could not do was ask his knights to stand by him and risk their lives, further extending their own captivity.

The knights bowed their heads, their inner struggle for survival and duty to friendship weighing heavy on their hearts. Lancelot shifted and glared angrily at Guinevere. He believed if it weren't for her, Arthur would be going home to Rome where he belonged. Where he would survive.

As Arthur marched down the battlement stairs to prepare for evacuation and defense, Lancelot followed at his heels in protest.

"Arthur, this is not Rome's fight. This is not your fight!" he tried to reason with his best friend.

"All these long years we've been together, the trials we've faced, the blood we've shed, what was it all for if not for the reward of freedom?" Lancelot argued, "And now when we are so close, when it is finally within our grasp….Look at me!" Lancelot finally yelled in frustration. "Does it all count for nothing?!"

Arthur spun on his heel, "You ask me that? You who know me best of all?"

Lancelot swallowed hard. He knew that for Arthur it was never about his own freedom. It was about the freedom of his men and the people he served.

"Then do not do this," Lancelot begged, "Only certain death awaits you here. Arthur, I beg you, for our friendship's sake, I beg you!"

"You be my friend now and do not dissuade me. Seize the freedom you have earned and live it for the both of us. I cannot follow you, Lancelot." Arthur's determination rang true, "I now know that all the blood I have shed, all the lives I have taken, have led me to this moment."

Lancelot sighed, biting back his tears of frustration as Arthur stomped away. He could not bear to think of losing a brother and best friend. They had endured much as brothers in arms, but loss was never an easy thing. Lancelot knew that he could not hold Arthur back from his destiny, but it was a hard truth to swallow.

Lancelot turned to see Guinevere staring in their wake. She had followed them and overheard their conversation. She too was worried for Arthur's safety, but she was equally as worried for the state of her country if the Saxons were to cross the wall. The devastation the Saxons had wreaked was already proof they did not want to live peacefully. They would not respect this land or it's people. As Lancelot scowled at her, she drifted away to follow Arthur, hoping to give him comfort before an inevitable battle.

Evony had climbed down the steps of the wall and weaved her way among the growing number of people, hoping to find Lancelot and learn what was to happen. She had witnessed the end of his words with Arthur and had watched as Guinevere followed after him. She knew that whatever the pict girl had said to Arthur in their private conversations had finally won him over, for country and for love. But for Lancelot, his hurt ran deep. She met his gaze after Guinevere had fled, her heart melting at the sadness that he could not hide, before he departed for his quarters.

Taking a deep breath, Evony found her way to Vanora's tavern. She took a seat on an empty stool and smiled as a barmaid behind the counter set a plate of roasted meat, bread, and cheese in front of her, followed by a cup of steaming mead.

"Vanora," Bors barked as he leaned heavily on the bar next to Evony, "A round for the boys."

Evony turned to the knight and hesitated before asking, "What will he do?"

Bors sighed deeply before answering, "Arthur will do what he must. Rome has decided to leave this country in force. They want no part of a land they cannot control and do not wish to waste their time on Saxons any further. The Honorius family will leave tomorrow with the Bishop Germanus and the entire Roman guard. Arthur will evacuate the people and try to hold the Saxon's at bay."

"And you? What will the Sarmatian Knights do?" Evony asked.

"We will snatch our freedom and be on our way!" Galahad interrupted, leaning on Bors with a half full mug of ale in his hand.

"You would leave these people to die? You would leave Arthur to die?" Evony asked with an eyebrow raised. She could feel a flame of anger burning inside.

"My Lady, we have waited fifteen years for our freedom. Fifteen years we have shed blood for Rome. We care not for Rome or this battle. This is not our land. This is not our home! I will gladly ride out if it means I live to see my home again. You would do well to do the same!" Galahad said, the ale slurring off his lips.

"I think the ale has loosed your tongue, brother," Gawain patted Galahad on the back as he approached.

Evony felt the well of anger build till she could no longer hold her tongue at the drunken knight, "You who speak of imprisonment should be ashamed of yourself. Our ancestors made a terrible pact, but your service is no worse than that of these people. I have been in this land long enough to know that the Romans have made slaves of them as well. Look around, good sir, their captivity lasts well past your fifteen-year service. Their lives hang in the balance just as yours. But they have nowhere else to run. They will die without just cause if the Romans leave. And Arthur along with them! Tell me, oh brave and honorable knights, you would leave your commander, your Brother, to die?"

Evony's last words hit home and none of the knights could look her in the eye. They were torn between survival and honor.

"Arthur is a free man, same as us. It is his choice to stay and fight. We have bled more than enough already," Bors words sounded more like an attempt to convince himself of his decision than to convince Evony, "I want to go home and I will take Vanora and our bastards with me. I will make sure my children will live."

"And then watch your sons be taken as you were by the Romans for their militia. You would condemn your sons for the sake of your own freedom," Evony said angrily before turning to the bar and asking for another cup of hot mead. Picking up her plate and balancing the two cups on the wide rim, she glared at the knights before she took her leave, "Think carefully, oh honorable knights. I may not have a home, but I know the difference between freedom and captivity. Sarmatia may be your home, but it is also your prison. If you truly want to be free men, then act like free men."

Tristan, who had been lounging on a low bench peeling an apple watched as Evony stormed away with her meal.

"If all Sarmatian women are like her, then we are in for a treat," Tristan broke the silence with a wry joke. His brothers stared at him annoyed. "What? She has spirit! I like that in a woman!"

Lancelot sat at the small table in front of his fireplace, head bowed, trying to reconcile his thoughts about tonight's events. Anger and frustration still ran through his blood. How could Arthur sacrifice his life for a people he had said he didn't belong to? How could he not take the chance to go back to Rome while he still lived? Lancelot refused to admit to the answers he already knew. Arthur did belong to this land, more so than to Rome. He had grown up here. His father and mother had died protecting this land and it's people. Now that the pict girl had entered his life, Arthur had found an anchor to stay and fight. His dream of Rome may have been crushed, but his realization that the people of Briton needed his protection and wanted a fair and just society without Rome held him here.

Lancelot jumped as a small knock sounded on his door.

"Enter," he said raising his head and looking to the door. He was surprised to see Evony enter with a plate of food and mead.

"I thought you could use some nourishment," she said as she entered and shut the door behind her.

Lancelot stood and motioned for her to sit across from him at the table. His quarters were bigger than Evony's. He had room enough for a bed, table and chairs, and a large chest and cabinet to hold his belongings and armor.

Evony carefully set the plate and cups of mead down on the table and took a seat. Lancelot sat himself down and picked at a piece of bread. Evony studied the dark knight carefully. In the few days that she had known Lancelot, she had learned that though he was the strongest of the knights, he was also the most compassionate. The tales of his honor did not do him justice. He was a man who felt deeply and who was just as lost as she. He was handsome with his dark curls framing his dark, expressive eyes. However now his mouth did not turn up in a grin. Instead it sat as a thin line on his fine face, wrought with worry.

"Thank you, for the food, lady," Lancelot tried not to forget his manners.

"Will you be leaving tomorrow as well?" Evony asked quietly. The anger she had felt earlier had subsided.

Lancelot nodded his head, still refusing to look at her. Evony's heart sank.

"He will die," Lancelot finally said as he angrily chewed a piece of bread.

"Perhaps," Evony answered, "Or he will lead the people to freedom."

"You sound like Guinevere," Lancelot said dryly.

Evony smirked, "The pict princess may be love-struck by man and country, but she has a point. There is a leader in Arthur yet. Did you not see how the people looked to him as he stood on the wall? They are scared. They know they are being deserted by the Romans, who have for so long held their captive peace. They look to Arthur for safety because his presence gives them hope. He gives them inspiration to live free or die trying."

Lancelot raised his eyes to Evony, his anger being overridden by his helplessness.

"Will you be traveling back to Sarmatia with us? I know you said you have no home, lady, but if you are willing you could return to my home. My village is not much, but you would be welcome there." Evony could not mistake the hope in Lancelot's voice. It was odd, how close they had become in the last few days. Lancelot had promised her that she would never endure another moment of pain and he had kept his promise. He had insisted she ride with him the rest of the way to the Wall. He had kept watch over her while she slept and kept her warm when it was cold. All the while, he never asked anything more of her than a friendly smile. Evony swallowed hard, hating to break him any further.

"No, my lord, I have chosen to stay and fight," she said carefully and watched as a new sadness entered his beautiful eyes.

Lancelot's heart stopped at Evony's answer. It was bad enough that he would lose Arthur, but to lose Evony as well was unbearable. He had never known a soul as hers. She burned like fire and was made of stone, but equally as gentle as the first fallen snow. He could not bear to think of her life being extinguished by the Saxon hoard.

"I will leave in the morning and escort the people from the wall. After that we will make way to Sarmatia. I will not be able to protect you," Lancelot told her desperately, hoping she would reconsider.

"I know, my lord. You have already done so much for me," Evony placed her hand delicately on his, "You have saved my life. The least I can do is try to save yours. If we do not stand, the Saxons will surely follow you."

Lancelot grabbed her hand and held it tight. His jaw clenched as he bit back the tears welling in his heart. Why was it so hard for him to let go? He felt as if the world was caving in on him and he had no way to dig through the muck and grime.

"You owe me nothing, my lady, but to live," Lancelot held her eyes.

Evony saw the loss in his eyes and her own heart wrenched at the thought of hurting him. But she could not stand by and let innocent people die. Not if they had a chance to live. She knew that even if she left, the Saxons would follow. They were as bad, if not worse than the Romans. Once they caught a scent, they were like hounds on the hunt.

"I will do my best to honor that debt, sir, but I must stay. I am an able body, and I cannot stand by and watch innocents die for nothing," Evony said.

Lancelot hung his head and stared at the flames of the fire. For a long moment they sat in silence.

"I see I have upset you. I will go," Evony stood, "Safe travels to you my lord. May the gods be with you and help you to find your home."

"My Lady," Lancelot stood and called after her, "Evony." She turned at the sound of her name. She looked beautiful as the firelight played shadows on her face, and he could feel his heart beat faster. He bit back the urge to give in to his desires and carefully spoke his next words, "I know this may be indecent of me, but please don't go. Stay with me tonight."

Evony's eyes widened and her heart raced.

"I promise I will be a man of honor. I would just greatly appreciate your company," Lancelot held out his hand, his pleading eyes making it impossible for Evony to deny him. Here was a man not seeking ill intent of her, just her presence before a long journey to find home.

"Alright, Lancelot," Evony mimicked his casual use of first names and reached for his hand, "I will stay."

Lancelot led her to stand in front of him and pulled Evony into a tight hug, holding onto her as if she would disappear at any moment. Releasing her only when he felt suddenly awkward and foolish.


	5. Chapter 5

_Note to Readers: After reviewing and editing all my grammatical errors for this chapter, I have come to realize that I was a little too lenient with my rating. Especially since I know what is to come in future chapters (I've written way more past Chapter 5 already!). So I've decided to fix the rating to M. It's definitely not for the faint of heart and has more than enough violent and adult themes. Enjoy!_

_P.S. We're getting close to the end of the movie! What will happen next?! Dun dun duuhhhhh..._

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Chapter 5

Evony woke before dawn, finding herself wrapped in Lancelot's arms. The purple hue of the sky seeped through the window, allowing her to view the sleeping knight, his face so peaceful as his chest rose and fell with every breath. They had shared a very chaste night together, as they had every night since the Saxon standoff on their way back to the Wall. Lancelot had stayed true to his word. He had not touched or dishonored her in any way. The two had simply talked till Evony could no longer hold her head up. Lancelot had offered her his arm as he always had and she had accepted, laying against his chest, much softer now without his armor. They had stayed like that, talking until Evony had fallen asleep.

Evony carefully sat up, slowly untangling herself from his grasp. Looking once more at this handsome knight she felt something prick her heart. A longing, a regret of having to leave. Such an odd feeling. She had never felt this way before. And to someone she hadn't known very long! She gracefully moved a dark curl from his brow ran a thumb over his cheekbone.

"Goodbye my knight," she whispered before standing up and quietly leaving Lancelot's room. It would be easier this way. There would be no awkward teary goodbyes.

Closing the door behind her, she quickly made her way out to the courtyard. The air was cold and brisk. The morning was barely dawning, but already there were people bustling about. Peasants were loading carts with belongings and supplies for the long journey ahead. Others were wheeling out large carts filled with hay and barrels of hot pitch to dump and set fires to in the fields for smoke screens.

As Evony made her way to the stables she saw Dagonet stumble out of the Healing Houses. His fever had broken during the night and no doubt Bors had filled him in on the Saxon horde at their doorstep. Evony smiled and took a moment to approach him. He was pale, his face drawn tight with every step.

"My lady," he greeted her with a bow of his head, his left hand holding fast to his injury.

"It is good to see you alive, Sir Dagonet," Evony smiled.

"I would not be standing here if it were not for you, lady. Gods be praised," Dagonet thanked her.

"If it were not for you, we would not have survived the Saxons following on our heels," Evony reminded him of his heroic effort that broke the ice and bought them time.

"You will be riding with us then?" Dagonet asked.

Evony shook her head, "No, sir, my place is here."

Dagonet studied the look on Evony's face. Without saying a word he nodded his head in understanding and gratitude.

"Be well, Sir Dagonet. I must make ready," Evony excused herself and continued on to the stables.

As she pushed through the large doors she was greeted by the strong stench of horse and hay. In the midst of men readying their steeds for travel, Evony found Arthur, supervising the war tack that Jols was putting on his horse. Arthur turned to see Evony staring at him.

"My lady, you should be making ready to leave. The fires will be lit in the field when the sun cracks the horizon. The caravan will be leaving before the Saxons begin their march," Arthur said, turning his attention back to the horse.

"My lord, with all due respect, I am not leaving. You need an able hand, and I have two to spare," Evony said determinedly.

Arthur turned his green eyes on her once more, studying her face. He knew he could not convince her otherwise. He had seen her skill in battle only once, but she was a fierce fighter. Just as fierce as his own Sarmatian knights. He nodded his gratitude and turned to Jols.

"Jols, find suitable armor for Evony. Give her whatever she needs," Arthur ordered and took over preparing his horse for war.

Jols looked Evony up and down, "Come with me, my lady. Lets see what we can find for you."

Jols led her to the back of the stable where a small storage room was tucked away. Opening the doors, Evony could see racks and shelves of armor of every shape, make and size. No doubt the armor had belonged to knights long gone. What they had not been buried with was stored here for future use.

Jols dug through the racks, emerging with a small plated breastplate, plated cuffs and a beaded plated helmet.

"Try this on for size. It's the smallest I could find. Used to belong to a Sarmatian Knight. He was a small fellow," Jols said as he disappeared into the storage room once more.

Evony took the armor and began to adjust the straps on the breastplate to fit her body. Surprisingly, it was a tight fit, and very light. She studied the plating and realized that it wasn't metal. The entire set of armor had been made of split and plated horse hooves. An effective Sarmatian trick for armor. Durable and lightweight, the armor would hold up as strong as metal.

As she finished strapping the breastplate and cuffs, she quickly braided her long dark locks and slid the plated helmet onto her head. It was very small, much smaller than a man's helmet should be, and she wondered what knight could be that tiny. Then again, some Sarmatian men were only boys when the Roman's took them. It would not be a wonder that they would not survive if they were too young. The helmet itself was leather, with layers of fine plating and beading in a winding pattern. It ended mid brow with delicately carved beads dangling.

Jols emerged once more carrying a Sarmatian bow and a quiver of arrows.

"What weapon would you prefer, lady? I have Roman swords of lighter weight for your hand…"

"I have a sword, thank you," Evony interrupted him, "But do you have rope and an ax? A dagger or two as well?"

Jols gave her a funny expression but when she did not answer he disappeared into the room again and emerged with a coil of rope, a small hand axe and two small daggers sheathed in leather.

"Thank you, Jols," Evony said as she fastened the daggers to her hip and ankle, the axe to her side, and shouldered the quiver and bow, criss-crossing the rope on her body.

"My Lady, you do look fit to be a warrior," Jols remarked.

Evony gave him a slight smile, "Just as I was raised to be, sir."

She nodded thanks again and turned on her heels to leave. She would fetch her sword from her quarters before heading out to the fields to see what the battle strategy would be.

Lancelot woke from sleep as the light began to lose its purple haze. He felt the bed alongside him and was disappointed when Evony was nowhere to be found. It wasn't the first time Lancelot had woken up alone after having company, but he never had felt the loss of a woman until now. Rolling over onto his back he stared at the ceiling. It was true he had known many women, but never had he known a woman who could capture his mind and hold his heart, let alone a woman who he had not the courage to bed. It was a perplexing feeling to know that he could not keep her, and to wake up without her felt as if he were missing a part of himself. She had no doubt left to avoid an awkward goodbye.

Rising, he began to dress and ready himself for the long journey ahead. Not two hours later he was out in the cold morning air, riding behind the caravan of Romans and townsfolk in a haze of smoke.

Lancelot glanced at his brothers around him. Their faces mimicked his anguish. Their duty to Arthur and their desire to go home was battling in their hearts. But for Lancelot, his heart fought a third battle. Could he leave Evony to her fate without him?

Bors turned his head to the far hill of Badon. There sat Arthur, watching over his knights and his people as they departed the fort at the wall. Taking his sword from its scabbard, Bors led his horse away from the party and shouted his goodbye, "Artorius! Ruuuuuuuuuus!" The knight beat his chest and held his sword to the sky.

Lancelot, Galahad, Gawain, Tristan, and Dagonet looked on at their commander. Arthur held his banner high and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuusssss!" The knights could not see the anguish in his heart. He knew this would likely be the last time he would see his brothers. The Saxons would come and he would fight a good fight.

Lancelot turned his head back to the path the caravan was taking and set his jaw. He could not watch his best friend give up his life for a country that was not his own.

Not more than a couple miles out of the wall, the caravan could hear Saxon drums echoing across the hills. The horses that the brave knights rode upon neighed and pranced out of line as the deep throb of the beat reached their ears. The caravan came to a halt for a moment as the knights stopped to calm their steeds.

"Woooaa," Lancelot said, tugging gently at the reigns of his black mare, "Shhhhhh." The dark knight leaned over to stroke the mare's neck and closed his eyes. He couldn't avoid what his heart was telling him any further. His own horse was mimicking his emotion and begging for war. He couldn't leave Arthur to face the Saxon hoard alone, and he couldn't let Evony die after he had promised to protect her.

Taking a deep breath, Lancelot looked up to Bors, Gawain, Galahad, Dagonet and Tristan. All six knights silently shared the same thought. They could not deny their loyalty to Arthur and leave him to die when he had risked his life time and time again for theirs.

"Hey," Tristan turned to his Hawk and whispered, "You're free!"

The magnificent bird took to the sky, disappearing into the smoke from the pitch fires.

Bors looked longingly to Vanora. The cart where his many children were riding waited for his decision. He knew that if he did not stand, the Saxons would be upon his family in no time. And if he were to return with his family to Sarmatia, the fate of his sons would be sealed. The Romans would come for them when they turned fifteen. Bors exchanged a look of apology with Vanora before turning to his brothers. He knew she would take care of the children and keep them safe.

Dagonet grinned a pale grin and shared a look with Bors. He was still recovering from his injury, but the fire within him begged to have a chance to repay the Saxon horde for their generosity.

Gawain nodded consent to Lancelot. His fear was apparent on his face, but he would not desert his brothers. They fought together or not at all.

Lancelot turned his gaze to the heavens, the corners of his mouth following in a half smile. The look in his eyes said it all. It would be a good day to die, if that is what the Gods willed.

Galahad chuckled. He knew they were all crazy, but today, they were free men. Today, they chose to fight. They chose to stand together, to stand with Arthur, to stand for Britain.

Quickly, they dismounted and readied for war. Each knight grabbing what weapons they would need from the armory cart in the caravan. Bows, daggers, axes, swords, they would need it all.

Minutes later, Arthur could hear hooves beating the hillside behind him. As he turned, Lancelot came to a stop next to him. The First Knight, dressed in full war regalia, gave him a knowing smile. Not a moment later, Gawain, Bors, Dagonet, Tristan and Galahad approached and fell in line with Lancelot. Each man held a standard with the horse emblem of the Sarmatian Knights flying high. Each man fought under his own choice. Each man stood next to Arthur and the smiles on their faces said it all.

_We are here,_ _and we are with you till the end!_

The Saxon hoard beyond the wall began to take formation. Battle cries meant to intimidate their foes rang through the air.

"Knights," Arthur said, walking his horse in front of his men, "the gift of freedom is yours by right! But the home we seek resides not in some distant land. It's in us and in or actions on this day!"

Lancelot listened to Arthur's words and could not help but think of Evony. He wondered where she was at that moment. Would she be laying in wait with the picts, or would she be with the few villagers who had stayed behind to fight? Would he be able to find her and protect her on the battlefield?

"If this be our destiny, then so be it," Arthur continued, "But let history remember that as free men, we chose to make it so."

Arthur turned his horse to face the Saxons beyond the wall and pulled Excalibur from its scabbard, "Ruuuuuus!"

"Ruuuuus! Haaaa!" the knights roared and planted their standards in the earth.

Tristan pulled his bow and scanned the horizon. Finding his mark, he let an arrow fly. In the distance, beyond the wall, a traitorous Briton fell from the tree he was hiding in.

The gates of the wall slowly opened. Upon orders from the Saxon leader, Cerdic, the first wave of Saxons ran through with a roar, expecting to meet their foes in battle. They were met with emptiness. There was only silence to greet them on the other side. In the distance, Arthur and his knights looked at them behind the dense smoke of the pitch fires. As the Saxon generals ordered their men in formation to begin their march, the gates of the wall closed behind them. Little did they know what lay waiting for them.

As the Saxon barbarians marched through the fog, a storm of arrows suddenly rained down on them. The high-pitched singing of the deadly rain was the only warning the men had. Shields came up and men ducked, but still they fell. When the first wave of the storm was done, hooves could be heard galloping at full charge. Arthur and his knights rode full speed through the smoke, swiping their swords at the crouching Saxons and breaking through the lines, only to disappear like ghosts into the smoke once more.

A second wave of arrows hit as the Saxons backs were turned. More men fell. A second charge from Arthur and his knights. The Saxon foot soldiers didn't know what hit them. The group of invaders had separated in the frenzy, and the knights were taking full advantage of the situation. Like furies they charged through the smoke, provoking the Saxons to attack. Soon crossbows emerged and as the Saxons fired upon their enemy. They realized too late that they really fire upon their friends through the cover of smoke. One by one they killed each other, till only one man was left standing. This man, Arthur sent out as a warning to the Saxon leader.

The roar from behind the wall was deafening. Evony could feel their anger in the very air she breathed. Patiently she waited for the signal and searched the smoke below for the knights. She had seen them join Arthur on the hill. Her heart had skipped a beat watching Lancelot's proud silhouette stand waiting for battle. To see all of them in full Sarmatian glory made her heart swell. They had stayed true to their nature. Their loyalty lay with Arthur and with freedom. And perhaps, she thought, if they were to survive this battle, they would all find their home.

The main Saxon army flooded the gates, led by their tyrant of a general, Cerdic, and his bald imp of a son, Cynric. The knights looked at the horde nervously and waited for Arthur's orders. As the army of Saxons began to separate and fan out, the signal was given to take position. Quickly, Briton and Woad pulled on the ropes of the trebuchets, wheeling them into position behind Merlin on a far off hilltop. In the tree line below, Evony walked up to the line and waited for Guinevere's signal, sword and axe in hand. Evony had been impressed with the Pict Princess. She had painted herself blue with the dark markings of war covering her body. All her vanity had but disappeared and she looked every bit the fierce Woad Warrior she claimed to be.

As the Saxons fell in range, a wave of flaming arrows shot through the sky like shooting stars. The pitch left hidden in the fields caught fire, effectively separating the Saxon army. Guinevere let out a mighty cry, running forward and signaling for her people to follow. The Woad Warriors and Britons charged with her, including Evony, sword raised. She knew the knights would not be far behind.

As the Saxons collided with Arthur's impromptu army, sword upon sword echoed through the air. Knights charged and cut down whom they could. Woad and Briton fought viciously for their freedom. Blood was spilled instantly from friend and foe. Evony banked and dodged Saxon swords, swinging and meeting the flesh of her foes with great ease. The Saxons were strong, but their weight made them seem clumsy on their feet. Ducking a blade to her head she thrust her sword forward and planted it in the gut of a grizzly looking man. Withdrawing her blade as the man fell, she spun with ease and arched her blade downwards, cutting into another Saxon who had attempted to sneak up on her from behind. Somehow in the midst of things she spotted Guinevere, charging and swinging her sword at the bald Saxon leader they had seen on the ice a few days ago. Quickly she began to fight her way to get closer to the pict girl. She knew that the Saxon, Cynric, was smaller than most men but would be a difficult challenge for Guinevere to beat.

Bors fell from his horse after a mighty blow to his gut from a Saxon. Standing, he wielded his axe with much skill and overcame two Saxons attempting to challenge him. Looking around he saw Dagonet, already on foot, swinging his sword as three Saxons surrounded him. His injury made him favor his left side, leaving him more vulnerable than usual. Dagonet succeeded in killing two of the Saxon men, but just as he spun to meet the third, the Saxon side stepped and planted a dagger deep into Dagonet's gut.

"Nooooooo!" Bors yelled across the noisy plane. He charged and swung his axe at the unlucky Saxon. The blade sank deep into the man's skull.

"Dagonet," Bors shouted his name as he took his fallen brother in his arm, "Dagonet, stay with me."

Dagonet's helmet fell from his head as he looked to the sky and then to Bors.

"Bors," he said, blood beginning to pool in his mouth, "I see the fathers of my father…they are waiting…"

"Dag, stay with me, you're going to be alright," Bors stuttered out.

"Yes, I will be fine," Dagonet agreed, smiling up at the smoke filled sky, "Live well, my friend. Take care of Lucan."

Bors hung his head as Dagonet's eyes closed and his breath came no more. Shaking furiously he laid Dagonet gently to the ground and grabbed his axe. Standing, Bors let all the fury of the death of his closest friend loose on any Saxon closest to him. They would pay for what they did.

Lancelot glanced across the fire line and noticed the bald headed Saxon was getting the best of Guinevere. He looked desperately around for Arthur, hoping that his friend would come to her rescue, but Arthur was too far away and preoccupied to save his Woad beauty. Lancelot quickly made his way to Guinevere. Hopping on the nearest steed he galloped full speed and jumped the fire barrier. As Guinevere fell to the ground, the bald Saxon meant to make a striking blow to her skull with his sword. Lancelot blocked his attack with his twin blades and kicked the man back. Spinning, Lancelot landed one blade on the Saxon's shield and met metal with metal with his second. Maneuvering again, Lancelot attacked, only to be met with a shield to the face. He went reeling back a few steps before counter attacking, meeting the bald Saxon's shield again and side-stepping to down the man with a punch and kick to the leg. Evony, who was desperately fighting to get closer, saw Lancelot as he struggled to better his opponent. As Lancelot tried to attack, Cynric punched him with a free hand. Lancelot fell to the ground and blocked the Cynric's axe, kicking him to the ground. But as Lancelot stood, three more Saxons attacked. Lancelot managed to fight the unruly men off, but as he planted his sword deep in the chest of the last of the three, he didn't see the bald man grab for a crossbow and take aim.

A shrill war cry came from behind and Lancelot turned to see a flash of blade slicing through the air. Just as the Cynric let his arrow fly at Lancelot's heart, Evony somehow managed to bring her axe down and deflect the bolt. In her left hand she had been readying her rope. As the stunned foe stared at her, she threw the rope and lassoed the crossbow away from the Saxon. Pulling the dagger from her side she let it fly. The blade landed in the Saxon's shoulder before he knew what was happening. Evony turned to Lancelot, who in his shock was standing and staring at her as if she were a dream. Guinevere, not too far off, looked up at Evony and smiled before moving on with another cry and leaping on the back of a Saxon enemy. Lancelot took a step forward when suddenly his eyes went wide. He raised his sword as he walked toward Evony and threw it with all his might. The sword sang past Evony's head as she turned to follow its path. The bald Saxon had acquired an axe from a fallen friend and was aiming to plant it in Evony's back. Lancelot's sword landed squarely in the man's chest and he crumpled to the blood soaked ground.

Recovering from the distraction, Evony drew her sword and pulled her dagger from her ankle, taking a defensive stance alongside Lancelot. There were more Saxons to be killed and they were determined to survive this battle together.

The fighting seemed as if it went on forever. When the field finally stilled, nothing could be heard but the crackling of pitch fires and the groaning of the injured or dying. Evony and Lancelot looked around. By some miracle, Arthur's army of Woad, Briton and Sarmatian won, but not without it's own losses.

Lancelot turned to her and stared, searching to make sure she was uninjured. He could not help but think that she looked just like an Amazon from a far off world. Her helmet had fallen off during the battle and wisps of her brown hair were loosing from her braid. She stood strong and beautiful, her fine hands holding sword and dagger. Her dark eyes settled on him and he could no longer deny what had been stirring in the depths of his being. Lancelot quickly closed the gap between them, reaching for her face, and laid his lips upon hers with a passion he had never known himself to possess. Pulling away slowly he stared into Evony's eyes before planting a lighter, sweeter kiss to her lips. He was grateful she was alive, and he was grateful he was there to stand with her.

Arthur looked through the smoke and saw Guinevere leaning over a fallen knight. It was Tristan, whom Arthur had seen fall by the hands of the Saxon leader, Cerdic, before Arthur ran him through. Running forward, he planted his sword into the ground and took Tristan's head in his hands.

"It was my life to be taken! Not this! Never this!" Arthur shouted to the heavens.

From across the field, the remaining knights came to gather. Bors carried Dagonet heavily across his shoulders and set him down gently with the help of Gawain and Galahad. Gawain favored his left shoulder, the wooden staff of a bolt still sticking out of his flesh. Lancelot took Evony's hand in his and led her to his brother's side with sadness in his heart. He had always thought he would die in battle. To see Arthur's pain, he could not help but think it could have been his body that Arthur said these words over if Evony had not been there.

"My brave knights, I have failed you," Arthur practically cried, "I neither took you off this island, nor shared your fate."

They stood in silence for the longest while with their heads hung low in respect for their fallen brothers. The hawk that had been Tristan's closest companion soared high in the sky and screamed his name.

Evony felt a gentle tug on her hand and followed Lancelot across the field of death and despair. Bors, Gawain, Galahad and Arthur gently lifted Tristan and Dagonet, draping them carefully over their horses and carried them off the field. Guinevere followed behind.

Seven days later, as was the custom of the Britons and Woads, the people gathered to honor their fallen warriors. Jols carefully lay bundles of dry thatch over the corpses of Dagonet and Tristan. Galahad handed Arthur a torch and the great leader solemnly bent and lit the fire of passing for his brothers in arms. Gawain, Galahad, Bors, Lancelot, Evony, and Guinevere silently watched as the greaves caught fire, lifting the souls of the fallen men to the sky.

"Earth my body, water my blood, air my breath, fire my spirit," the pagan priest recited.

Lucan stared at Dagonet's grave, tears streaming down his face.

"May the Gods lift them up and hold them high. May their deeds go unforgotten."

Evony felt a soft touch to her hand and looked up at Lancelot standing next to her. She twined her fingers in his and squeezed to let him know she was there for comfort and she shared his sorrow.

"They have fought and lost their lives in service for a greater cause than their own. Freedom. May this never be forgotten. May their names and deeds be handed down from father to son, mother to daughter."

The pagan priest stepped in front of Lucan and placed a tether around his neck with Dagonet's large ring hanging from it. Bors looked on, holding Number 11, and could not help but think that Dagonet would have liked to have a family of his own. He would have been a good father and taught Lucan well.

Above, Tristan's hawk shrieked his goodbye and soared high into the air.


	6. Chapter 6

_Warning: This chapter contains adult content. If you have any problems reading sexual situations, turn back now. Or just read until you get to that point. I promise I've written it at tastefully as I possibly could. Not an easy task, let me tell you! _

_You have been warned!_

_P.S. The rest of the movie ends here! But it's not the end for our characters! Not even close!  
_

_P.P.S. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! I really am looking forward to what you have to say about the story! I promise I'll write you back! _

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Chapter 6

Two weeks passed and the residents of the fort, along with the tribes of the Woad gathered at a Tor overlooking the ocean. Arthur had chosen to marry Guinevere for love and country. Their union would unite the land, bringing Roman, Woad, and Briton together in a way that would change the world forever. Arthur had found his home in Briton. He had found his home in Guinevere.

Merlin held a golden chalice up to the North, South, East and West for blessing. Waving sage as he walked from the peak down a line of torchbearers, he stopped in front of the Woad Princess and the new King. Guinevere took the chalice in her hands and turned to Arthur. She sipped from the brim and handed it to Arthur.

The people watched on with hope in their hearts. Gawain and Galahad stood side by side, still disillusioned from the battle at Badon Hill, but knowing that what they witnessed was a turning of the tide. They missed Sarmatia, but now they were bound to this land, bound to this path with Arthur.

Bors stared on in the midst of his family, trying to quiet Number 11. Vanora shared a smile with her children and looked on at the joyous occasion, so sorely needed after such devastating tragedy.

Lancelot stood silently by one of the large standing stones, watching Evony across the circle of people. He knew she felt his gaze upon her. She always did. He wondered what would become of them now. In the three weeks since the battle, they had rarely spent much time together. Evony had been needed to help a new Master Healer care for the many injured and dying since Valentius had left with the Romans. Lancelot had been busy helping Arthur organize Briton and Woad into search parties to scout for rogue Saxons. Lancelot stared at her beautiful figure, the golden sun glowing on her skin, and wondered exactly what she thought of him. Would their path be together, as Arthur and Guinevere would travel? So much was left unsaid.

"Arthur, Guinevere, Our people are one," Merlin said proudly, "As you are."

Arthur and Guinevere looked into each other's eyes and smiling, leaned in for a historic kiss. Their people clapped and cheered, offering shouts of encouragement and joy.

"Now I'm really gonna have to marry your mother," Bors whispered to the baby in his arms.

Vanora, who heard every word, smirked, "Who said I'd have you?"

The radiant couple broke from their passionate kiss and stood on the mound in the center of the Tor.

"King Arthur!" Merlin proclaimed.

"Hail Arthur!" the people cried and knelt down on one knee.

Arthur's Knights, feeling the value of what they were witnessing, knelt in reverence.

"Let every man, woman, child bear witness that from this day all Britons will be united in one common cause," Arthur proudly addressed his people. Guinevere stared at her husband and king, unable to hide the pride welling in her heart.

Arthur clasped the hilt of his sword and pulled Excalibur from its sheath, holding it high in the air.

"Arthur! Arthur!" the people chanted and cheered.

The knights and men who would fight for king and country pulled their swords and held them high. Gawain, Galahad, and Lancelot shared an incredible look of awe at the devotion their new King invoked in his people.

"Artorius!" Bors shouted above the chanting, pledging his loyalty to Arthur as King.

Guinevere joined her hand to Excalibur and stared at her people. She had been right. Arthur belonged to this land. He belonged to these people. And now they belonged to each other.

Arthur turned to the Woad archers standing along the cliff. The archers lit their arrows and took aim into the sea. The sky lit up with dozens of fiery stars. A King was made.

The evening brought with it joy and celebration. The great dining hall was opened and a feast was held in honor of Arthur and Guinevere. Wine and ale flowed freely, as did the food. Arthur sat at the head of the hall with Guinevere to his right. The two laughed merrily as they conversed with their subjects and watched the flurry of dancers stomping out a merry beat.

Lancelot sat at a table to the side, a goblet of wine in his hand. He was happy for his friend but also worried that his kingship would hold more trouble than he knew. The thought was fleeting as his attention was stolen by a vision in dark blue. Evony stood talking with Ganis and Galahad. She wore a long and flowing tunic of the deepest blue with flowing sleeves, bound to her arms by leather straps adorned with tarnished coins. Another circlet of coins, layered in an intricate pattern, accentuated the curve of her hip. Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders, framing the garment's neckline and showing off her delicate skin, and her head was circled with a crown of tarnished coins. Around her neck she wore a delicately carved stone pendant. She looked like a queen from a far off land. Lancelot was captured by her beauty.

"She is very beautiful, isn't she?" Guinevere snuck up beside him, taking a seat on the bench and interrupting his reverie.

For the first time he could remember, Lancelot blushed. Nervously he took a sip of his wine.

"She is very brave as well," Guinevere continued, "She holds a warrior's heart."

Lancelot nodded, "Indeed she does, my queen."

Guinevere looked at him thoughtfully, "Maybe two?"

The Queen caught Lancelot off guard, "I saw how you embraced her on the field at Badon Hill."

His dark eyes turned to her, his tongue robbed of speech.

"You know, she could have the heart of any man she chooses. She is a free and desirable woman. Yet her heart she guards as fiercely as she does you," Guinevere pondered, "You would be wise to honor that trust, my good knight. For we may not know what tomorrow brings."

Lancelot watched as Guinevere departed, smiling and laughing her way back to her husband. Setting his gaze upon Evony he knew that he could no more contain what was true in his heart than he could a wild animal. For her he would do anything. For her he would be anything. He could not stand to think her heart could belong to another, that another could hold her the way he wished he could do. They had been through much in the past weeks. Lancelot knew that the strength he now possessed was because of her. His realization perplexed him to no end. He had guarded himself from feeling anything but the drive to return to Sarmatia for so long, and then somehow she was placed in his life and the stone wall of his insides was reduced to rubble.

Lancelot swore silently to himself, taking one last sip of wine before rising. This would have to be as good a time as any. But would she want him? The knight who had the blood of Roman conquest on his hands? The man who had a sordid past as a womanizer?

Crossing the room he caught Evony's eye. She smiled at him warmly.

"I am sorry, my good men," he addressed Galahad and Ganis, "But I'm afraid I must rescue the Lady Evony from your grasp before you bore her to death."

Lancelot flashed his signature grin, letting a little mischief enter his eyes as he bowed and offered his hand to Evony, "My Lady, would you do me the honor and dance with me?"

Evony bowed gracefully and took Lancelot's hand. She was secretly relieved he had rescued her. She was not used to so much gentlemanly attention. Though she knew Galahad and Ganis to be good men, the inquiring glances they had both taken on during their conversation made her uneasy. A consequence of her trauma, no doubt. She knew that with Lancelot she was safe from such things, even when she felt his eyes studying her mannerisms and looking for answers. His gaze, for some reason, never bothered her.

The minstrels had started a winding partner dance and already couples were taking position on the floor. Lancelot led Evony to the floor, holding her hand out in front of him, tucking his other arm behind his back. He had, in his travels, picked up a little skill at these foreign dances, but truthfully he was no expert. He followed along, watching the other dancers out of the corner of his eye and mimicking their steps swiftly and gracefully, leading Evony along in a gentle spin to catch her by the waist.

"What do you make of those two?" Arthur asked his wife and queen, giving her a squeeze and pointing his chin toward the dance floor.

"Oh, I think they are most compatible," Guinevere told him.

"You do not think that Lancelot is working his charms? Evony is a good woman. A good fighter. I have hopes to keep her with us." Arthur said. He truthfully didn't want Lancelot to ruin the prospects of adding Evony to his guard.

"She is the only one whom your knight's charms could not work on," Guinevere whispered in his ear, "And she is the only one that Lancelot could devote himself to if she so chooses."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at his lovely wife, "You think?" He had to admit, he was no expert in the business of courting.

"Was I wrong about you?" she smiled deviously.

Arthur laughed and kissed his new bride, "No. No, you were not. I was just too stubborn to listen."

Guinevere laughed and laid her head on Arthur's shoulder, "And yet here we are. Amazing I put up with your insolence so long!"

The two continued to chuckle as they stared at the Sarmatian Knight and the girl on the dancefloor.

Another spin later, Lancelot held Evony close as he led them in a promenade.

"My Lady, you look beautiful," Lancelot could not resist the comment. He felt awkward using his charms on Evony, but his words were true. He stared at her as they stepped and bowed to the music.

"You flatter me, my lord, but if it were not for our lovely Queen, I would have worn my trousers," Evony chided with a smile, "Guinevere insisted I wear a proper dress to her wedding."

"It becomes you," Lancelot said, his eyes taking in as much as his heart could hold, "I am sorry that I have not had much time to share with you these past few weeks."

"You need not apologize, my lord," Evony started.

"No, but I must," Lancelot insisted, "You have saved my life, lady. To that I owe you everything."

Lancelot paused in the center of the dance floor, letting the chaos of the people around them go unnoticed. Time seemed to stand still as Evony looked into the dark knights handsome face with something like uncertainty clouding her eyes.

"My lord, you owe me nothing but to live," Evony repeated his words to him.

"Evony," her name slipped from his lips as sweetly as silk and with one small move he stood inches away from her, cradling her hands to his chest, "I live because of you. I have stayed because of you."

Lancelot gazed into her beautiful eyes, as dark as his own. Before he could say anything more, Bors voice could be heard booming over the chaos of minstrels and dancers.

"Ruuuuuuuuuuus!" Bors stood on a bench and held out his mug of ale.

"Ruuuuuus!" Galahad, Gawain and Arthur responded before Bors was shooed off the bench by Vanora.

Lancelot pursed his lips with annoyance at the interruption. Before he could turn back to Evony, he felt her slender hands slip from his. Turning, he saw the blue of her skirts disappearing into the crowd. His heart just about broke. She was running from him. Had he taken too much liberty with her? Was his embrace on the battlefield unwelcome? Had he read her wrong? Did she not want his tarnished soul?

Evony couldn't breath. Her heart pounded a mile a minute as she climbed the stairs to the battlement. Why had she run? Her brain couldn't process the emotion. Standing at the top of the battlement, she looked out over the wall and closed her eyes. The cool breeze of the night air blew across her face and she forced breath into her lungs. The sounds of the celebration could be heard from below.

Evony stilled the torrent of emotion inside of her. She quietly whispered to the wind, "Father, have you set me on this path for a reason?"

She had not spoken of her father to anyone but Lancelot. In all her pain, she knew that he was watching over her, just as he had done in life, guiding her path. The question was what did the fates have in store for her?

Frustrated, Evony sighed and opened her eyes. She could see the torchlight from the small settlement outside the wall, but most of all she could see the stars. She remembered a story her father had told her as a little girl. Her people believed that the spirits of warriors were reborn in the form of a horse and would know what lay ahead for their rider. For those souls that were not warriors, they would return to the stars to lead the people through the darkest night. What would these stars hold for her now?

Turning her gaze to the courtyard below she studied the people, old and young, celebrating the marriage of their new king. Families smiled at one another, lovers embraced and held hands, friends shared merry stories over a pint of ale. And then she saw Lancelot emerge from the hall, looking desperately around. She knew he searched for her, but she could not make herself reveal her whereabouts. Instead, she watched him pace, a look of desperation on his handsome face. Her heart felt that familiar twinge once again. She knew she hated to hurt him. Every fiber of her being wanted to make him happy. She wanted to see him live, to pursue his freedom, to find his home. But what of her home? As Evony watched the brave knight give up his chase and head towards his quarters, she realized that her heart had already decided where her home should be. She had tried so hard for years to protect herself, especially when she was in Marius' keep, but for all her efforts, her heart had now chosen a life unprotected. Lancelot had been the only man her heart had warmed for. He had been the only one that she had let herself be more than a fighter for. The kiss they had shared on the battlefield only solidified her heart's decision.

Evony felt the desperate pull of her heart lead her toward her only hope. She let her feet lead her where they would, and before long she found herself at a certain knights door.

Lightly, she knocked on the hard oak door.

"Go away," she heard Lancelot's troubled voice behind the door.

Slowly she tried the handle and found that it was unlocked. As she gently opened the door, she quietly stepped inside, heart racing, and met Lancelot's distraught gaze as he stood pacing in front of the fire. When he saw her he stopped, his eyes so dark and expressive, revealing all of his hurt and frustration.

Evony closed the door behind her as Lancelot began to protest.

"Lady, I apologize. I have taken far too much liberty…." He tried to make amends, holding his hands out.

Evony didn't let him finish. She crossed the room with swift grace and met his lips with hers. She felt his awkward shock as she slipped her hands to hold his stubbled chin. He relaxed into her embrace, his hands slipping around her waist and climbing her back. Breathlessly, they drew apart, foreheads touching.

Lancelot pulled far enough away to look down into Evony's beautiful face.

"Lady, you perplex me," he smiled, his eyes trying to search for answers. How could she run from him one moment and then show him such passion the next? Surely he would go mad.

"I perplex myself," Evony chuckled at her truth, "I am the one who should apologize, my lord. I am afraid I have not been truthful with you."

Lancelot nuzzled her nose, trying with all his might to practice self-restraint.

"Then we are both guilty," Lancelot stared into her beautiful eyes once more, "I meant what I said. I came back because of you. I know what is whispered about me. I can no more deny it than to say the sky is not blue. But for you, Evony, I would do anything."

Lancelot took her hands and again held them to his heart, "I want nothing more than to hold you in my arms and never let go. I would call you my own, if you will have me."

He reached a calloused hand to her cheek and lovingly stroked the blush of bone with his thumb.

"My Lord, I have been yours since I heard your voice in the darkness. I wished for a savior and dreamt of a home I did not have," she moved her own slender hand, brushing a curl from his brow, "I have been blessed with both in you."

Evony's eyes glistened with truth. Her heart swelled with the words. She had finally let herself admit her fortune. Lancelot was her home. It did not matter what land they were in or what air they breathed. As long as she was with him, she was home.

"Evony," his voice came as a heated whisper, "You are my home. I am yours for eternity."

Lancelot bowed his head and caught Evony's lips in a passionate kiss. He felt her arms slip around his neck, their fever growing. Holding her tight with one arm, he scooped her off her feet and carried her to his bed. He gently set her down, not breaking contact for a moment, and continued to worship her sweet kisses till he could take no more.

Breathless, he pulled away, eyes closed, "I am afraid I will dishonor you, my love. We should go no further."

Evony sat up, looking down on her honorable knight. Boldly she leaned down and kissed his lips, kissed his cheek, and whispered in his ear, "I am no stranger to honor, my loving knight, but my honor is my own and I will do with it what I wish."

Lancelot shuddered as she playfully bit his earlobe, an audible growl escaping his lips. He grabbed her waist and roughly lay her down next to him, rolling to his side and kissing her deeper than he had before. He was shocked at her boldness, but he could not resist her.

Their lips parted and tongues played against each other. Hands tangled in long locks of hair and roamed freely, aching for more contact. Lancelot felt tiny fingers loosening the knots of his tunic, pulling at the fabric. He pulled away, breathlessly searching her eyes for an answer.

"Are you sure?" he asked, praying to all the gods that she was. He did not wish to hurt her. She had already endured more than any woman should. However, he knew if she weren't sure, he would surely go mad in a matter of minutes.

Evony smiled, sitting straight and nimbly tugging the last string to untie the knot on Lancelot's black tunic. She kissed him gently and pulled on the fabric, loosing it from its constraints and running a small hand under the shirt, caressing his chest.

"I am positive," she kissed him again.

Quickly he lifted the tunic over his head and threw it to one side. Her hands were upon him as he pulled her to him, their kisses becoming desperate. She felt his skin, hot under her touch, and every scar and ripple of muscle. He found his way to the bindings on the back of her dress and with great skill loosed them. He worked at the buckles that fastened the sleeves to her arms and focused his kisses on her neck. He found that most sensitive spot where the blood pulsed and quickened, and littered it with kisses and gentle bites. Evony arched her back and ran a hand through his thick black curls. She was no stranger to knowing a man. There were a few select men she had chosen on her travels, before her torture. None had held her heart like Lancelot did. None held the very essence of her being in the palm of his hands and reveled in its glow like he did.

Evony felt the flaxen fabric of her garment loosen and slip over her shoulders. She felt his kisses work their way to her collarbone as he tugged and pulled the fabric further. Letting him free her from her trappings, Lancelot paused and pulled away, wanting to take in the very essence of her beauty. His eyes roamed her torso, taking in every curve and detail, wincing at the scars that reached around from her back to peak at her sides. She had endured much pain in her time. Her beautiful skin was just as scarred as his. But for all it was worth, she glowed in his eyes. She was the image of the goddess, come down to bless him from the heavens.

Lancelot reached a hand to her head and gently lay a kiss to her forehead, her cheeks, and finally most lovingly, on her lips. Breathless, he looked deep into her eyes and whispered, "I love you." He felt as if he could not contain the swelling of his heart. He had never uttered those words to anyone. There had been no one before her that had held him entirely. He wanted to drown in her love over and over again.

Evony pulled him to her with more kisses, tracing the outlines of every scar and scratch on Lancelot's skin. He held her close, reveling in the sensations of her lips as they roamed across his chest. Evony moved her hands to the bindings that held his leather trousers tight. Lancelot let out another soft groan as she brushed his most sensitive region with her hand, taking her face in his hand and kissing her more urgently. Laying her down, Lancelot slipped the last of the garment from her legs as she kicked off the delicate shoes from her feet. He leaned down, caressing her sides with his free hand and felt her tugging at his trousers. He quickly removed his boots and trousers, returning to her eager embrace. He lay with her, the heat of their bodies and the touch of their skin making it impossible to think straight. As he moved his kisses to the soft mounds of her breasts he heard her sigh, feeling her lean into his mouth and grab at the back of his neck. He was trying desperately to take it slow, every fiber of his being screaming for more. She deserved to be worshipped, to savor every touch and caress he could offer.

Evony arched her back and shivered, every touch, every kiss, breaking down all of her barricades. She loved this man, this Sarmatian knight. She loved his smell, the tickle of his stubble on her sensitive skin, the way his curls felt as she ran her hands through every strand. She hooked her leg around his middle and delighted at the touch of his calloused hand sliding from ankle to thigh, squeezing hard when she ran her nails across his back. Evony felt his lips returning to her neck as a hand gently probed her inner thigh. He wound circles around her most sensitive parts, making her squirm. His hot breath against her ear, his fingers boldly explored where her body ached the most for his touch. Evony let out a moan, grabbing at Lancelot's shoulders tighter. As her body rose and arched with his ministrations, she slid a hand lovingly down his torso and found his manhood readily awaiting her touch. It was his turn to sigh, intensifying his caresses as his arousal grew higher. He struggled to stay focused as he kissed her deeply. Evony began to tense, the ecstasy in which she found herself being pushed to its limits. She felt as if she would burst with pleasure.

"Lancelot," she breathed, clutching to his shoulder for dear life now.

"Don't hold back, my love," his deep growl of a whisper finished her off.

Evony's body quaked with more pleasure than she had ever known. A moan barely escaped her lips before Lancelot caught it with a deep and loving kiss. He held her to him tightly as he expertly waited out each wave of pleasure, memorizing the inner workings of her most private regions. As her body relaxed he continued to kiss her, more urgently now. Lancelot moved, laying his full weight atop her slender frame. He paused, his dark lust filled eyes meeting hers. She brushed his cheek before pulling him to her, eager to take in all that he could give. Lancelot leaned down, caressing her leg as he raised it to his hip. She could feel his muscles trembling with anticipation. Slowly he joined with her, her body arching into his as he filled her completely. Lancelot let out a heavy sigh, struggling against the urge to become a wild animal and take her as he pleased. This was not about him, he reminded himself. This was always about her.

As their bodies moved and molded together, each caress and each kiss became more urgent. The feel of her closing in around him over and over again while she clutched at his back was becoming maddening. She rose and fell to meet him with more vigor, driving him further to the brink. He could feel her body beginning to tighten again, the familiar signal that she was near her end. He growled and picked up his pace, reaching deeper and deeper into her core. She squirmed, pulling him harder to her before letting out a loud groan as the whole of her being exploded stronger than before. His end came as hers began, joining her with his own groan of satisfaction.

As the quakes of pleasure subsided, they lay wrapped in each other's arms. Lancelot kissed her deeply, trying to convey all the passion the world had to offer into that one kiss. Evony ran a hand through his dark curls, gliding it over his shoulder and down his muscular chest. They looked into each other's eyes and saw a world of vulnerability. Neither knight nor lady had ever let themselves experience the sort of pleasure they had just shared. It was more than just a physical need. Their souls had bonded. They belonged to each other and had consummated that bond.

"Evony," Lancelot whispered as he ran his fingers through her tousled hair, "My beauty. My life is yours."

Evony blinked back tears that she had not known had appeared, "Lancelot, I am yours. Now and always, I will be yours."

The two lovers kissed, sealing their fate for eternity. The Sarmatian Knight with a reputation of a rake had pledged his body and soul to the one woman who could keep him. The lost Sarmatian girl with the warrior's heart had given herself completely to the one man who would know how to hold her. The universe aligned as the two fell asleep amongst sweet caresses and the crackling of the fire. Together, they had found their home.


	7. Chapter 7

_Dear Readers,_

_Thank you for taking the time to read this story. It means the world to me! Just a heads up, my posts may begin to slow at this point. I have been fortunate to update the story for you almost every night because I had written a considerable amount before I mustered up enough courage to post. I still have quite a bit to post before I'm at a stalling point, but it takes me some time to edit grammar as well. After this chapter I will try to get something out to you once to twice a week. It depends on how much time I get to write each day (my 1yr old daughter takes up most my time), and how long it takes me to research what I am writing about and piece it together in this little universe I'm adding to. I actually do quite a lot of research regarding geography, methods of the time, characters, ect. _

_As I said before, I own nothing other than my original characters. The places and names from the movies and of the knights are all not mine (though I do wish a couple of them were!). Like I said, I just get to write the fluff around the greatness. I try as best I can to stick within the historical boundaries of the movie, only manipulating what I must to fit the storyline in my head. I hope you enjoy the bits to come!  
_

_Please review for me! I'm dying to know what you think of the storyline and character development!  
_

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Chapter 7

Morning came far too soon to the Wall. The purple haze of the sky lit the outlines of the thick curtains framing the window. Dull embers glowed in the hearth where the fire once blazed.

Lancelot slowly came to his senses, turning and feeling for Evony beside him. He smiled a broad, sleepy smile as he felt the warmth of her body and the smoothness of her skin. The emptiness was gone. She had filled it entirely. This was the first morning that Lancelot could remember waking up and feeling truly happy. He wrapped a heavy arm around Evony's frame as she turned into him and cuddled. He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes, dozing in utter contentment.

Evony stirred some moments later, wrapping an arm around his waist and breathing in his manly scent of leather and wood. She remembered the few nights she had spent slumbering in his arms on her way back to the wall. He had held her then as if she would break, maintaining a respectable demeanor as to not tarnish her honor. She smiled, eyes still closed. Her honor had been taken long ago by her own admission to a striking stable boy in a far off land. But the stable boy did not hold a candle to her knight. No, Lancelot was a flame that sparked her own fire. He was the wild thing that mirrored her very soul. He could calm her and encourage her all at the same time. He made her feel she was more than just a useful hand. She was a fighter and a healer, but Lancelot let her be a woman of the highest regard.

She kissed his neck and haphazardly ran her fingers up and down his back. He took a deep breath, stretching sleepy muscles from the night's rest and pulled her closer to him.

"Good morning, my love," he sleepily said into her hair.

"Good morning, my knight," Evony smiled into his broad chest.

"Must we rise so early?" Lancelot groaned as he stretched some more, laying on his back and pulling her into the crook of his arm. He did not want to let go of such a perfect moment. He had been blessed with so few.

"I'm sure that everyone is still sleeping off last night's festivities," Evony told him, "We should have a few more moments of peace."

Evony ran her hand over his muscular chest, tracing every outline of scar and sinew. Lancelot smiled as he took her hand, twining their fingers together over and over. He wanted to give her the world, to offer her every dream and fantasy on a golden platter. She had melted his heart and given him a home. She had filled the void he had felt for the last fifteen years. He was free. He was hers.

Lancelot nuzzled and kissed her forehead again. Evony turned her brown eyes to meet his and kissed his lips gently and fully. Nothing could disturb their happiness this morning.

Galahad stepped out into the morning air and stretched his muscles, letting out a good roar. His head pounded slightly from the previous nights festivities, but it was nothing he wasn't used to.

"Move your arse," Gawain shouldered past him, "You're hogging the doorway!"

Galahad gave his older brother a dirty look and stepped to the side. Gawain looked around the courtyard of the Wall. Citizens were slowly stirring, beginning to resume their morning routines and tidying up from last nights wedding feast. Gawain could smell bread baking from the small tavern across the way. He spotted Bors sitting at one of the burley wooden tables, sharing his breakfast with two babes on his lap.

Gawain and Galahad made their way to join their bald friend, eager to fill their bellies with Vanora's cooking.

"Where's Lancelot? Surely his smug face isn't as hung over as you are?" Gawain joked as Galahad threw him another dirty look. Bors laughed as he scooped a mouthful of runny egg with his bread.

"I have not seen him. Maybe he found a pretty wench to occupy his time," Bors laughed, but knew that Lancelot, for all his misgivings, had never shared a morning with anyone but himself, and usually a grumpy one at that.

"We are due for patrol soon," Galahad reminded them before shoveling the breakfast Vanora had set before him into his eager mouth.

"Well by Gods!" Gawain laughed, pointing a hot cup of mead to an unfamiliar sight across the courtyard.

Bors and Galahad turned and stared, a bit awestruck with what they saw.

Lancelot was laughing, holding Evony close as they walked along the courtyard from the knight's quarters. Pausing, he tenderly took her chin and lifted her lips to his in a parting kiss. As she left his side, she turned to the dumbstruck knights and winked.

Lancelot approached his brothers in arms with a broad grin. They continued to stare at him, trying to comprehend what they had just witnessed. They had seen the handsome knight woo many women in their travels, but never had they seen him say goodbye to one in the morning, or look like a lovesick puppy while doing so!

Bors began to laugh as the curly haired knight sat down at the table next to him. He shooed the two children off his lap and clapped Lancelot on the back, "It looks like you've tamed the Philly!"

"Or she's tamed you!" Gawain laughed at him.

"Another conquest, no doubt," Galahad said bitterly.

Lancelot shook his head, "She is worth more than any conquest."

"Ooooh," Bors and Gawain said in unison.

"So that's it then? The great lover of women leaves a trail of broken hearts!" Bors said with a raised eyebrow.

Lancelot gave a wry grin.

"Well at least that leaves my Vanora safe from your grimy little hands!" Bors remarked with joy and raised his mead cup.

"So how did you do it? Was it your toothy grin or your terrible dance skills? How long before the sands run out and she joins the ranks of your unwanted?" Galahad continued his bitter tone.

"Now, now, little brother, you are disappointed she didn't choose you!" Gawain nudged him on the shoulder.

Lancelot's grin fell as his blood began to boil, "Hold your tongue, brother. She is worthy of more respect and I will have you honor that! We are bound to each other more than you could understand."

"Besides, Gal, that means you finally get all the pretty ladies to yourself!" Bors laughed. Galahad finally cracked a smile and chuckled as Gawain clapped him on the back. He couldn't very well be that jealous. After all, it had been obvious from the start that Lancelot and Evony had shared something more than just friendship. It was only a matter of time till the dark Sarmatian girl and the First Knight would admit their affections.

"Knights," Jols interrupted them as he approached, "Arthur wishes to speak to you at the round table."

"Always when I'm eating!" Bors said, shoveling the last bit of his breakfast in his mouth as he stood.

"Come now, you'd think he would still be in his wedding bed at this hour!" Gawain joked.

Lancelot grabbed a piece of bread off of Galahad's plate and stood, "Arthur is King. He gets no rest until he unites all of Briton. We shall become the Rome he has always wanted."

The last four Sarmatian Knights of Arthur's infantry made their way to the meeting hall. As the great doors opened, the three filed in and took their places at the great round table. The brazier in the center of the room glowed. Arthur sat in his gilded chair, Guinevere at his side.

"Knights," Arthur greeted them and motioned for them to sit down, "I call you this morning to discuss the matter of our standing in this, our new home. You have served me well. I owe you a debt of gratitude for if it were not for your bravery I surely would not be taking breath. And so it is now that I must ask an inevitable question. Will you, as my brothers and my friends, stay?"

Gawain, Galahad, Bors and Lancelot looked across the bare round table and shared a raised eyebrow before bursting into laughter. Arthur looked amused and bewildered.

"Arthur, you bloody bastard, we are free men. If we were going to leave, we would have left your ars to the damn Saxons on Badon Hill!" Lancelot said with a grin.

"Besides, who am I to hand my sons over to the Romans? My life is here with Vanora and our bastards," Bors smiled, "You too, of course."

"Will we have to call you 'My Liege'?" Gawain laughed.

Arthur chuckled, a broad smile forming on his strong jaw. Guinevere laughed. Arthur raised his hand to quiet his unruly knights down.

"No, brothers," he smiled, "I shall and will always remain Arthur. This is the round table, after all. We are all equal men here." Guinevere raised an eyebrow at her husband before he added, "And women."

Jols entered the room and began pouring the men goblets of water.

"I have other matters to discuss with you as well," Arthur's tone became serious, "I have been delaying this for far to long. Brothers, I must address the sad matter of our number. You have done an admirable job working with the Woad warriors to secure the surrounding areas. But I fear that we are not enough to bring forth the People's Britain. Rome has deserted us. The forts along the Wall and throughout the country are left unsecure. We are getting reports from the Picts and the Britons of unrest. We have a great job to do before us. I would like to put up the discussion of adding to our number."

The men sat silent, sharing bleak expressions, waiting for Arthur to continue.

"Merlin has sent word to the tribes. We will be receiving emissaries in two days, pledging their loyalty. I have also sent banner men with caution to the nearest Roman inhabited villages and castellums. I am sure we will find allies there as well," Arthur paused, "What I ask of you men is council for further appointment of our number. You alone know what we face more than any. You alone are my closest friends and have my trust. We must surround ourselves with like minds if we are to succeed. And so I put this to you – what say you to a woman serving at this table as your equal?"

Gawain grinned, "I'd say we have no quarrel with the Queen, if she can stand our fowl mouths."

Gawain, Bors, Galahad, and Lancelot snickered. Guinevere gave a wry smile, "I assure you, gentlemen, your ribald jests have no effect on my ears."

Arthur smiled and lay his hand on that of his queen, "Guinevere goes without question. No, I speak of someone who has proven her worth along side us in battle."

"Evony?" Lancelot raised his head, concern showing in his eyes. He knew she was more than a capable fighter, but after last night's admissions, he couldn't help but feel protective of her.

"Yes, Lancelot, I speak of Evony," Arthur met his gaze, "She made her choice to stand and fight, just like the rest of you. She has risked her life more than once for us. Her skill rivals your own. We need someone who can fight as well as heal. I believe her to be as loyal as you. What say you?"

Gawain looked at Bors before nodding in agreement, "Arthur, she is more than able."

"She's a bloody Amazon, that one!" Bors remarked.

"Aye, I do not mind serving alongside a warrior as her," Galahad grinned, attempting to mimic Lancelot's usual cheekiness.

"Lancelot, you are silent. What say you?" Arthur asked, studying Lancelot's face carefully. He could see the knight's troubled expression.

"Lancelot is afraid to let his lady love join the likes of handsome men such as us!" Galahad jested, "For fear she may not want his affections any longer!"

Lancelot glared angrily at Galahad while Guinevere shared a knowing look with her husband.

"Lancelot?" Arthur asked again.

"She is able, Arthur," Lancelot said with hesitation. He knew that he could not deny Evony the fire in her spirit. He shared the same fire, after all. She had to make her own choice, and whatever it may be, he would have to oblige. "Lady Evony can make her own decision."

"Very well. Jols," Arthur nodded to his attendant.

Jols nodded and opened one of the great doors. In walked Evony, no longer clad in the navy blue gown that Lancelot had left her in. She had traded her fine dress for a pair of brown leather trousers, white tunic, leather vest, arm couplets and leather boots. Her fine long hair was braided to one side. She stood at the door, hands clasped calmly behind her back. The knights stood to greet her, in respect for her gender.

"Lady Evony, thank you for joining us," Arthur greeted her, "Please, sit."

"Thank you, my lord," Evony said, bowing her head slightly, walking round the large table to the seat that Jols was holding out for her. It just so happened to be next to Lancelot. Evony winked at him before sitting, making the dark knight break out in a sly smile.

As Evony sat down, the knights followed suite. Jols poured her a goblet of water before taking his post by the door once more.

"Lady Evony, I have asked you here today to thank you for coming to our aid against the Saxons, and for the aid and goodwill you gave to our dearly departed brother, Dagonet, on our journey back to the Wall. You are most admirable, lady."

Evony gave a small smile, attempting to hide her blush, "You flatter me sir. I did only what I thought right. I fought for those who could not. As you and your brave knights do every day."

Arthur smiled and looked to his company, "Yes, well, that is why we are asking you, my lady, to join us. Your skill is greatly needed, and your presence would be most welcome among friends."

Evony's heart began to race. She looked around the table at the faces of the knights. They were all waiting for a response. Lancelot's gaze was, as always, the most intense that she felt.

"Will you swear your loyalty, Lady Evony, to Britain and it's people? Will you join our round table?" Arthur put the question to her.

Evony looked to Lancelot. His dark eyes held unspoken fears. She knew he was worried about losing her in battle, like he had so many of his brothers in arms. But she knew the fire that burned inside of her heart also burned in his. They were Sarmatian, and they had both been bred for war. She may have been born a woman, but it was in her blood. To deny that she would not fight, which was truly the only useful skill she possessed, was to deny herself.

"I will swear my loyalty, my Lord. I accept your offer," Evony answered carefully as she turned her gaze to Arthur. She could feel Lancelot release the breath he had been holding next to her.

Guinevere smiled as Arthur grinned and raised his chalice, "Welcome, Lady Evony, to the round table."

The knights raised their goblets in a toast. All were happy to have her in their company, but all had a sadness about them. There was no question of their loyalty to Arthur, but to involve a woman in such serious dealings was not their custom. This would be something they must get used to.

Lancelot stared at his dark beauty before sipping from his goblet. Evony had sealed her fate. She may not have been in service to Rome, but she was now in service to a most impossible dream. A United Britain.

"You are upset with my decision?" Evony asked Lancelot as they made their way to the training grounds. Lancelot had not said a word since they had left the meeting hall.

"It is your decision," Lancelot said, his demeanor tense.

"But you are not happy," Evony finished the thought in Lancelot's head that he was not brave enough to say out loud.

"No, I didn't say that," the agitation in Lancelot's voice was apparent.

"Lancelot, I am the daughter of a knight. I was raised on a battlefield, not at a hearth watching my mother mend clothing. You know that this is in my blood, as well as yours," Evony reasoned with him, "If you wanted someone who cared more for tending a home than a sword, then you have made a poor choice in me, sir. But I do not think you would be happy otherwise."

"No, I did not mean to offend you," Lancelot stopped in his tracks and faced Evony, "I would be most happy with you at my side, on or off the battlefield. I just want you to be safe. I don't want to see you get hurt." Lancelot put a hand to Evony's face.

Evony smiled, cupping his hand in hers, "I know, my love, I do not want to see you hurt either. But it is a risk we are well aware of."

Lancelot nodded, his expression softening, and leaned down to place a soft kiss on Evony's lips. As they pulled away, Evony noticed a couple village girls staring at them across the yard.

"Your admirers are staring, sir, and they don't look too happy either!" Evony smiled at him.

Lancelot briefly looked over his shoulder and smiled, placing a protective, muscular arm around Evony's shoulders.

"Let them stare. They are jealous," Lancelot pulled Evony close as they began walking again, "You have something they will never have."

"What is that?" Evony asked.

"Me, my love. You have all of me. That is something that only you will possess for the rest of my days," Lancelot said lovingly.

Evony smiled at him. She already knew that. She felt it in every fiber of her being, in every kiss and caress that she shared with him. This was different that one of his trysts. They belonged together.

"Well then, my knight, let us save our affections for later. For now, I do believe it is time we spar!" Evony eased her way out from Lancelot's arm as they entered the training grounds. She gave him a devious little smile with a flash in her eye as she took position and pulled her sword from her scabbard. The metal flashed in the sunlight.

Lancelot grinned, "My lady, are you sure you want to spar against a knight of the round table? I warn you, I will not go easy on you…."

Evony lunged, wielding the blade with confidence, as Lancelot quickly pulled one of his twin swords from his back. A series of offensive steps met steel with steel till Lancelot held her sword inches from his face with his own.

"Oh, I am sure, dear knight," Evony said through the cross of metal, "And I have no doubt you will test my limits."

Lancelot just grinned at her daring, countering her attack and posing one of his own. By this time, they had caught the attention of the other knights and warriors in training in the yard. The men paused in their sparring matches to watch the scene unfolding. They had never seen Lancelot spar with a woman, let alone one that could most likely rival his own skill.

Evony blocked every swing of Lancelot's sword with ease. She spun to counter his weight and sword pitch and caught out of the corner of her eye Gawain holding a blade for her.

"Here you go, poppet," Gawain called to her, throwing the blade hilt first.

Blocking one more swing from Lancelot's blade, she spun and grasped the hilt of the blade in mid air. The blade was light, it's handle thin enough for her slender hands to hold. The blade was a Roman pugio, at least eleven inches long. Facing Lancelot, she held her sword and dagger at the ready.

Lancelot continued to grin as he pulled his second sword from the scabbard on his back. Taking stance, he waited for Evony to begin her attack. Evony swung the sword in her hand and parried Lancelot's counter swing with the dagger. They danced together like this for what seemed ages, their skill and style blending together in perfect harmony. The men cheered them on, yelling words of encouragement to Evony and mocking Lancelot for good sport. Finally, Evony grew tired of the constant dance. She watched Lancelot's moves carefully as he wielded his blades. When she saw an opening, she took it. As she blocked both blades with her dagger and sword, she dropped to one knee. Before he knew what was happening she swung her leg in a swift round, catching Lancelot by the ankles and landing him flat on his back. She stood, spinning, and dropped onto his chest, her knees pinning his arms helplessly to the ground, her sword pointed inches away from his neck. The men cheered mercilessly.

"Do you give, sir?" Evony asked breathless, a strand of loose hair hanging in her face.

Lancelot stared up at her grinning face, framed by the white sky. He was quite surprised that she had bested him, but then again, he had lied. He had gone just a little easy on her. That was probably his downfall in the end.

"I give, my lady. You have bested me," Lancelot grinned.

As she pulled the sword from his neck and began to stand, Lancelot pulled her in a roll till he leaned over her with one of his own blades to her neck.

"A fair rule, lady. Never underestimate your opponent," Lancelot teased.

"But of course sir," Evony said with a raised eyebrow and motioned for him to look southwards. There she held her dagger at the ready to his manhood.

Lancelot laughed and stood, offering a hand to his ladylove. The men continued to laugh and jest.

"Looks like Arthur made a mistake making you his First Knight! He might fare better to appoint Evony that command!" Bors joked from the sidelines.

"We've taken on an Amazon!" Galahad smiled, "the enemy will never know what hit them!"

Evony smiled as she sheathed her sword and hooked the pugio on her belt.

"Evony! Come," Bors motioned, "We have something for you."

Evony followed the portly knight with Lancelot, Galahad, and Gawain trailing behind. Bors led the group to the stables, opening the great wooden doors and leading them to a back stall. In the stall was a grand warhorse of dapple grey.

"We thought that since you would be joining us, you would need a horse of your own," Bors said, giving the animal a pat on the neck.

Evony stared at the beautiful beast, it's dark brown gaze staring calmly at her.

"But this is…" Evony began.

"Tristan would be proud. And we would be honored," Bors interrupted her, a noticeable sadness entering his eyes.

Evony approached the horse and held her hand out to him. He nuzzled her fingers and met her eyes, the souls of past warriors shining within.

"Perhaps a little of Tristan lurks deep in his heart. He knows what lies ahead. He will protect you," Bors patted the speckled main.

Evony smiled at the man. It was a little annoying, but also heart warming to think that these knights, such hard and war torn men, would care for her safety so much.

"What is his name?" Evony asked.

"Cadogan," Lancelot answered behind her.

"Cadogan," Evony repeated, petting the horse's muzzle, "If he will have me, I will be glad to ride him."

As if in response, the horse bowed his head and took a step toward Evony.

"I'd say that was a yes," Gawain grinned from the side of the stall.

Evony laughed as the horse began to nuzzle her hands and neck, "I would say so!"


	8. Chapter 8

The hour was late and the fire burned bright, warming the knight's quarters. Lancelot sat in his bed, his love in his arms, a finger stroking the golden skin of Evony's shoulder. His eyes were on the fire, lost in thought.

"You are miles away, my love," Evony interrupted Lancelot's thoughts, "Do tell me what steals your attention."

Lancelot squeezed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head, "You know what ails me, I'm sure."

"Two nights of sharing your bed and I am to be a reader of minds?" Evony joked.

Lancelot gave her a playful squeeze.

"Fine, I know," Evony admitted. They may have committed themselves to one another only the night before, but she had been able to read his thoughts from the very beginning.

"Arthur has great dreams," Evony prodded the words from his mind.

"Arthur is going to get in over his head," Lancelot said, "I can feel it."

"Guinevere doesn't think so," Evony knew that statement would provoke him. She felt his muscular chest tighten beneath her.

"Guinevere probably put him up to most of it!" Lancelot said bitterly.

"Come now, it was you who said Arthur dreamed of a Rome that did not exist. He sees what could be here in this land. It is his dream that he is fulfilling. Guinevere is simply a supporter. It benefits her people." Evony pointed out.

Lancelot sighed, "I understand that. I just think that Arthur will have more trouble than he bargains for."

"And that is why he has his knights by his side. Who better to protect him and build with him than his trusted friends?" Evony tried to comfort him, "Besides, I think Arthur is more perceptive than you believe. He knows it will not be an easy road ahead. He is still seen as Roman. He has much to prove to the Woad clans. Especially since it was he and his faithful knights that slaughtered so many. This is why he keeps you near. This is why he trusts his knights to help build his council and his army."

"Then he has placed his burden on all of us," Lancelot said gravely.

"And you knowingly and willingly accepted, as did I," Evony reminded him, "It was a free man's choice."

"Yes, one I hope we will live through," Lancelot looked down on her.

"Well, I for one will live. I don't know about you," Evony joked.

"Oh, and what of your brave knight?" Lancelot feigned being offended.

"Well if he dies I'm sure Sir Galahad will be glad to take his place," Evony jested before being promptly hit in the rear with a pillow and tackled.

The two lovers playfully laughed before Lancelot pulled away and looked down at Evony's shining smile.

"No, really," he said in a much gentler voice, "What if we don't live through Arthur's dream? What if I die?"

Evony looked at her dark knight. His dashing looks and his immeasurable strength made him deceiving. No one could ever know that he had such a tender heart when he could finally open up.

"Then I shall die with you, and we shall meet again on the other side," Evony said and lovingly brushed a curl from his brow.

Lancelot kissed her deeply, conveying all of his love in their embrace.

Two days passed and Arthur waited patiently. In that time the knights took the opportunity to prepare. Galahad and Bors took aside groups of Woad warriors and Briton volunteers to teach them strategic fighting techniques. Lancelot and Gawain chose a few lucky souls from Merlin's tribe to become part of Arthur's new cavalry. Evony, on Guinevere's request, worked to teach a small group of Woad women skill with a sword. All knew that once the emissaries arrived, there would be orders to follow. If they were to leave, the castellum would need protection.

"Arthur," Jols interrupted Arthur's thoughts as he stared into the fireplace in his quarters, "They are here."

"Thank you, Jols. Please call for the knights. I will receive them at the hall," Arthur dismissed Jols and began to prepare himself for the coming meeting.

Not long after, Arthur sat waiting for his visitors in the Great Hall, Queen Guinevere by his side. The remaining knights of his round table sat quietly, as did Evony. The great doors opened and Jols ushered in the group of visitors.

"May I introduce Bagdemagus, King of the Gore, Bedwyr Bedrydant of the Finddu, and Erec son of King Lac," Jols introduced the four woad individuals as they entered with several woad warriors in trail.

"Welcome, gentlemen, to Camboglanna," Arthur greeted, standing and holding his arms out. His knights and his queen stood as well.

The Woad King, Princes and warriors bowed to the round table before the tall one, Bagdemagus, replied, "Beannachtaí, Arthur de Camelot. Teacht againn gealltanas ár saol do chúis."

Arthur looked to his wife for translation. She straightened herself rather stoicly and said, "Greetings, Arthur of Camelot. We come to pledge our lives to your cause."

"Camelot?" Arthur asked questioningly.

"It is what they have been calling your stronghold, my king," Guinevere answered graciously.

"We come in answer to your call, my lord. And to accept you as a king of the realm," Bedwyr spoke up, "Our people will join in your cause, whatever may be needed of us."

"Tell me, Sirs, why would you join our cause?" Arthur asked as he motioned for his round table to sit. He stared at the standing guests as they spoke.

Bagdemagus spoke first, "We believe Merlin, my lord. My people are tired of war. We are tired of the Saxon's invading our lands. We know that Rome has left us, and we cannot turn to them for support. Merlin says that you are one capable of uniting all of Briton. I know of your conquests, and I trust in his word. I am willing to trust in you if it brings my people the peace they desire."

"You would stand with someone who your people have fought against for years?" Arthur inquired.

"We would stand with you, my lord Arthur," Bedwyr answered next, "Our tribes may have been at war with you in the past, but our only hope of a future is to stand united. Your bravery will lend strength to our people and this land. We will follow you."

"And you, Sir Erec, you have been quiet," Arthur addressed the shorter, dark haired woad.

"Bedwyr speaks the truth," the quiet man spoke for the first time, "I have aided with the fight at Badon Hill. I have seen you in battle stand up for this land and our people. If the Gods did not want you as their champion, you would have died that day. But here you stand. And so I pledge my loyalty to you, my king."

Arthur looked to his queen for reassurance that their word was true. She nodded silently, letting him know that she would trust these men with her life. It was a known fact that not all the tribes were friendly with one another, but these two tribes she knew and had dealings with in the past. She knew these men from her father's council and knew they meant every word they said.

Arthur looked around the table at his knights. They seemed hesitant to have any Woad join their service, but these three men may prove to be useful additions. Especially since they had fought alongside at least one of the tribes already.

"Very well then," Arthur spoke, "I thank you for your loyalty, brothers, and ask that you stay on in Camelot," he said the new name carefully, "We are expected to recieve more alliegances in the days to come and I would greatly like to gather all of you to discuss the state of our unity."

"We would be honored, my king," Bagdemagus replied and all three men bowed.

"Jols," Arthur motioned, "please arrange quarters for our guests and make sure they are comfortable."

Jols bowed and escorted the men from the hall.

"Pft, Woad Knights. That's a new one," Bors remarked sarcastically once they were alone.

"They are good men," Guinevere reassured, feeling her blood boil a little from the tone of Bors words.

"We need the support of the tribes. This is their land. What we do is for all the people," Arthur reminded his knights.

"That's not what Rome said," Galahad smirked.

"This is not Rome," Arthur reminded him sternly.

"Bedwyr's people fought with you at Badon Hill," Guinevere spoke up, "They shed blood just as we did. They are committed to a new Briton. They are trustworthy."

"The rest of you? What say you?" Arthur asked.

"We don't know them well enough," Gawain piped up.

"We didn't know you well enough when you joined us," Bors pointed out and got a laugh out of Galahad and Lancelot.

"But he has a point," Lancelot said, breaking his silence, "We shouldn't join in force without caution."

"To deny their loyalties now would be a great disrespect, Sir Lancelot," Guinevere said heatedly.

"What do you suggest?" Arthur asked his First Knight.

Lancelot thought for a moment before answering, "Hold on your decision. You must know them first. Wait to recieve the other tribes or whomever wants to pledge their loyalty. If it is as Merlin's men and the Britons say, we will have plenty time to prove their loyalties in the next few weeks."

"You cannot hold them here while you sit on your heals," Guinevere gave the dark knight a dirty look.

"I am sure they are smart men. They know they must prove themselves, just as Arthur must prove himself to them," Evony finally spoke, "If they truly are loyal and want to join in your dream, then they will understand and aid when needed."

"They are not dogs to be bidden for scraps," Guinevere said insulted.

"And they are not Arthur's men...yet," Evony reminded her in a stern tone. The knights stared intensley at the two women, secretly enjoying the exchange of words. "They have not fought as brothers with your husband, dear queen. You would be wise to be as cautious as Arthur's dear knights if you wish your husband's safety."

Guinevere bit her lip at the insulting remark. She was queen. Who was this girl to tell her who and what to be cautious about? It was her, afterall, that had made Arthur see his potential. But deep inside she knew that Evony was probably right. Arthur had killed many Woad in his battles. Though there were many that looked upon him as the Uniter of Lands, there were most likely just as many who would love to have his head.

"It is a wise suggestion," Arthur agreed, placing a calming hand on his queen's dainty wrist, "I agree we must procede with caution. We will have many visitors in the days to come, I am sure. I don't believe all will have such good intentions. A waiting period will do some good. We can utilize their service and test their loyalty by sending them out to investigate the reports of unrest. All in agreement?"

"Aye," they all stated in unison, save for Guinevere. She was content to revel in her flustered state.

The rather short meeting was excused. As the knights shuffled out of the great hall, Guinevere approached Evony quietly.

"That was a bold statement during our meeting, lady," Guinevere said, the tone of her voice revealing her offense.

"I was only pointing out the truth, my lady," Evony turned, looking her in the eye.

"Coming to defend Sir Lancelot's suggestion...appropriate," Guinevere was beginning a battle she could not win.

"As you would your own mind or your husbands, I am sure. However, that is irrelevant in this case. Lancelot's suggestion was wise. You know he is right," Evony said calmly.

"Yes, I am sure. However, in the future you would do wise to watch your words. You speak to Arthur, and I am the Queen," Guinevere said indignantly, letting her naivete and her pride overtake her reason.

Evony held her gaze and quipped, "My lady, you knew from the moment we first spoke, I am a woman with a free tongue, as are you. I speak when I must and I support reason and strategy. I am here at the service of my knights and Arthur. You are here solely for the purpose of your Husband King and your people. If Arthur did not want my opinions heard and if we were not all equals, he would not have asked me to join his council and this table would not be round."

Guinevere stared silently, speechless fury apparent in her eyes.

"I do not wish to anger you, Guinevere," Evony's use of the woman's common name in trade for 'queen' reminded the pict that they were indeed friends, "I only have the best interests of Arthur and these people at heart. We have no time for pride and empty gestures. Arthur is trying to put together the pieces of a broken country and scattered peoples. He needs the safety of his council, of his wife, to guide him and protect him."

Guinevere's tense shoulderes shrugged slightly, "I know. I have heard the rumors of Woad and Saxon's uniting in the south. There will be opposition, I am sure."

"Then let us be women on equal ground. For we have seen hell and back. We can surely help these men piece together a country," Evony smiled wryly.

Guinevere returned the smile, her nerves and hot temper calming.

A week passed and every day there were new visitors. Men from the surrounding areas, from Woad tribes, and from those left along The Wall and in the castellums poured into Camboglanna to pledge their loyalty and their lives to King and cause. Some seemed more loyal and sincere than others.

Arthur sat at his round table, his council seated regally around him. Jols waited patiently at the door for Arthur's orders.

"Escort them in," Arthur asked, "All of them."

Arthur was grateful of the men seeking to pledge their service, but he grew weary of formality, as did his company.

Jols bowed slightly and opened the hall doors.

"May I introduce Caradoc, King of the Gwent, from Caerwent," Jols ushered in a proud figure of elder wisdom. He looked much like Merlin, only cleaner. His tribal markings were clear on his face and arms. He stood tall for a Woad, and was of thicker build. His grey hair untraditionally cut short, making his squared jaw more prominent. He was accompanied by a band of warriors and attendants.

"Griflet," Jols continued with the Woad introductions, "Son of King Do of the Finddu."

A tall, skinny Woad with long brown hair came forward and bowed.

"King Vortigern of the Powys and his son, Catigern," a short, muscular man draped in red and green garments stepped forward. He had dark features with shoulderlength hair. His son looked very much a younger version of him.

"Urien of Rheged, militia ap Castellum Maia," the Roman Briton officer entered the room and bowed. He was tall, like Arthur, and had green eyes, but he had golden streaked hair that hung to his shoulders.

"Oweyn, Son of Urien, Militia ap Castellum Maia," a smaller young man stepped forward in Roman garb and bowed low. His jaw was that of his fathers, but he had dark eyes and darker hair, cut short in the Roman fashion. No doubt he was part Briton.

"Sir Caius, Liutenant ap Castellum Vindolanda," a giant of a man entered the room. His red hair lit the top of his head like a flaming brazier. His eyes were the most piercing, cold blue. His build was muscular, projecting in him the strength of a mountain. He wore the garb of Roman red over his shining armor, but carried an untraditional weapon. In his great hands he held a giant warhammer. The staff was long and the blunt, the square hammer adorned with dull spikes. The knights stared at this man intensely. They had heard the rumors of his strength and triumphs. He was a force to be reconned with.

Caius dropped to one knee, holding the hilt of his hammer, "My King."

"Thank you, gentlemen, for traveling all this way. Welcome to Camelot," the name was getting easier and easier for Arthur to roll off his tongue, "I appreciate your allegiance in these important times. Please make yourselves comfortable during your stay. As you can see from the many encampments on the wall, our number of friends is growing."

Arthur nodded to Jols who began to pass out goblets of wine to each of the visitors in the room.

"Do you swear your allegiance to a United Britain, to it's people and to it's King?" Arthur said, standing and holding his golden goblet in his hand.

"Aye, I do," the men said in unision and in a myriad of languages.

"Then join us, brothers, in our fight for the people," Arthur saluted and drank deeply.

"What do you see?" Evony asked as she climbed the last step of the battlement to find Lancelot staring broodily over the wall.

He turned to her, his expression lightening as he swept her up in a warm embrace.

"You," he said cheerfully, avoiding the question as he gingerly leaned down and gave her a kiss.

"Very clever," Evony said sarcastically as they settled against the wall.

Looking out across the green fields, Evony studied the numerous campfires and tents of the many men who had come to pledge their loyalty. So many there were that it resembled the Saxon fires that had threatened their walls so many weeks ago.

"There are many men out there and they are getting wrestless," Lancelot sighed, worry tinting his tone.

"And this place is getting crowded!" Bors growled as he joined them on the battlement, Galahad and Gawain close behind, "I can no longer spit without hitting someone!"

"Camelot is growing," Evony remarked.

"Psh, Camelot," Gawain smirked, "Are we calling ourselves by a Woad name now? Last I checked we were still Camboglanna."

"That's a Roman name, brother," Galahad smiled, "We are not Roman any longer."

"What are we to do with these men? How are we supposed to turn them into an army?" Bors remarked as he spit over the wall.

"Give them a united cause," Arthur said, joining his knights on the battlement, "Thank you for meeting me here, knights," Arthur paused and bowed his head slightly, "and lady."

"What's this about, Arthur?" Galahad asked as he made himself comfortable on the short stone wall.

"It is time to begin testing loyalties, my good brothers. I have gathered reports from those that have offered service. There is opposition from rogue Saxons to the south, and it seems there have been a few debatable reports of Caledonni to the east. The wolves are knocking at our door and taking chance to enter," Arthur informed.

"You wish us to settle these reports?" Lancelot mused.

"Yes," Arthur continued to share his plan, "You will lead parties to the South following the Roman roads. You will split into two parties once you reach Castellum Eboracum. I believe the Briton's have been calling it York. Bors, Galahad, I need you to lead the Woad factions to investigate reports from that point down to Londinium. Lets see if there are any Romans left behind at the castellums that we can add to our ranks. Pay attention to the Woad warriors you will have with you. The southern tip of this island has been an entry point for the Saxons. I have a sinking feeling that some of our gracious hands may be working with the enemy. I have heard reports that Vortigern is called the usurper. He once held Londinium and attempted to use the saxons to control the Picts and Caledonni. It backfired. We do not know how much land the Saxons hold in the south, but we must be cautious – of him and of the beasts."

Bors nodded, "We'll weed them out."

"You'll be taking the largest of the faction with you, as I am sure you will need to station units as you go. Caradoc, Bedwyr, Bagdamagus and Erec will join you with their men. Caradoc's kingdom is in the south-east. He will know the area best. I will not chance Vortigern on your travels. He may not be recieved in a civilised light. Be cautious. The territory you wander in will most likely not be hospitable." Arthur paused, turning to Lancelot, "Lancelot, I will need you, Evony, and Gawain to to lead the second faction to the east from York. Watching these men I am becoming increasingly aware of a lack of discipline and variation in skill. They cannot keep up on horseback. We need more cavalry and we need able bodies to help train. I want you to procede to Brementenacum to see who is left. Sarmation, Roman or other, I am willing to wager that those whose service was complete did not all leave with the Romans. See who is there to join our ranks. I also need you to investigate the rumors of the Caledonni in that region. Reports say they are testing the waters and entering at the coast. We need to know what we are up against."

Lancelot and Evony nodded.

"Who will be travelling with us?" Evony asked.

"You will take Urien, Oweyn and Vortigern. Their men will accompany. They will split to the surrounding areas to assist with Saxon and Caledonni reports as well," Arthur answered.

"What about you, Arthur? Who will stay here to protect you?" Lancelot asked, his duty to his friend apparent in his voice.

"I will be keeping Caius with me, as well as the faction of britons and romans that we have found along the wall. I do not think it is wise to have them all go with you. The woad population will be quick to mistrust Roman militia more than they would you." Arthur said matter of factly before pausing and considering, "I have a feeling about Caius. I have heard of his strength and loyalties. I do believe we can trust him with our lives."

"When do we leave?" Galahad asked, his mind already beginning the planning and calculating as they spoke.

"You will leave in three days time," Arthur answered, "I will speak with our new subjects presently and let them begin organizing their men. They await my arrival in the great hall. If anything, ANYTHING is amis, send word. And remember, our goal is to unite these people. Remind them what we are fighting for. Get them on our side if they aren't already. Give them something to raise hope, not fear."

"So now we are emissaries? Since when did we become babysitters for the pups of the country?" Bors remarked with a little frustration.

"Since we became it's only hope," Arthur said clearly, his green eyes flashing, "Our victory at Badon Hill has been reaching the ears of many. The people look up to us, not just me, to lead and protect them. I don't expect you to make grand speeches or hold their hands. I expect you to win their trust and their admiration with your deeds."

"Yes, because that will be so easy since we've killed so many of their kinsman," Lancelot said sarcastically, rubbing his bearded chin.

Arthur glared at his first knight.

"We will get it done, Arthur," Evony assured him.

That evening, the fire burned low in the chamber of the high king. Arthur sat staring at the embers, pondering the events that had passed that day. His knights were none to happy to play the role of emmisary, but they were the only ones he trusted to give an accurate report of what was happening in Briton. There had been so many mixed reports from villagers and woad. He needed the truth, and his knights were the only ones that could give it to him.

Arthur's train of thought was broken when slender hands slinked their way around his neck from behind.

"You are troubled, my king," Guinevere asked, leaning down and kissing her husband's cheek.

Arthur smiled wearily and took his wife's hands in his.

"They are not pleased with me," Arthur remarked.

"They are your brothers. They will not fail you," Guinevere reminded him.

"They are my most trusted friends. They are the only ones that can accomplish the task at hand," Arthur sighed, "But I fear what they may find."

"We knew that undertaking the task of uniting Briton would not be easy," Guinevere said.

"I have my doubts concerning some of our allies," Arthur confessed.

"Do you think they would betray you?" Guinevere asked, an eyebrow raised.

"I think there are those whose loyalties lie in their own interests. To recieve so many reports from the south and have them disregarded by Caradoc worries me. He says that there have not been significant Saxon sightings in that region. However we know there are Saxon settlements at the tip of the island. We know that is where they move from. And Vortigern – it is common knowledge he once hailed over Londinium. He is known as an usurper. He is responsible for the deaths of several leaders because of his dealings with the Saxons before being exiled. He is responsible for giving them land to settle." Arthur said frustrated.

"So Caradoc is feigning allegience to see where you stand and Vortigern is conducting a plan of revenge to clear his name?" Guinevere mused, "And you would send your knights out with his men?"

"I would send them to collect information. I would also send with them with trusted backup in Bedwyr, Bagdemagus and Catigern. I have faith that not all our allies are wolves waiting to strike. Those that are true of heart and purpose will be our voice to the people where my knights cannot," Arthur replied.

Guinevere waited, sensing her husband had more on his mind.

"I have decided to remain here at Camelot and make ready. If indeed we have the enemy at our door, we will need to stand firm. The Wall is and always has been the best vantage point," Arthur shared.

"And your knights?" Guinevere asked.

"God willing, they will make it back to the wall," Arthur's expression was dark.

"Have faith, my husband, for we may not know what tomorrow brings. We will unite this land yet."


	9. Chapter 9

Dear Readers,

I apologize for posting this chapter so late. This week's Halloween festivities made it slow to write and edit. It's also been a difficult road to write this next part. I'm still struggling with the following chapter. But fear not! I will have something for you to read next week as well!

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 9

Three days came and went in Camelot. Horses were readied and provisions were loaded. Arthur's knights, including Evony, gathered in the courtyard to say their final goodbyes and lead their company on their way.

"Lancelot, Bors" Arthur pulled his First Knight and his oldest knight aside, "Be cautious, my friends. Not all those in your company can be trusted."

"Aye, Arthur. I have heard the dealings of these so called Kings," Bors commented as he glared at Caradoc and Vortigern from the corner of his eye.

"Bors, need I remind you to hold your tongue steady the further you go south. You will be entering territory more treaturous than the pict clans near the wall," Arthur warned, hoping the portly knight would be a step more diplomatic than his usual demeanor, "If you must, have trust in Bedwyr. I have a feeling he will be most valuable on this journey."

Bors winced at the use of 'trust' in the same sentence as a woad, but understood. He nodded before Arthur excused him.

"Lancelot, I would speak with you about our dealings at Brementanacum," Arthur started, "I have faith that you will act the perfect emisarry. They will listen to you more than anyone else. They hold you in high regard. More so than the rest of us."

"Yes, Arthur. I understand what I must do. Are you sure you can trust those around you here?" Lancelot prodded and swept his gaze cautiously over Arthur's new recruits. They were a motly crew of leftovers from Hadrian's wall, Woad, and Briton. In Lancelot's eyes, they were utterly green.

Arthur cupped a hand to his friends shoulder, "I will be fine. I have much to prepare for the rising storm. And I believe that those that stay will be of great help."

Arthur took a deep breath as he watched Lancelot shift uneasily. He knew his closest friend did not like the fact that mere strangers were left to defend Camelot and it's King, but he knew that they could not carry out the serious task at hand like Arthur's knights.

"Lancelot, a quick word on our newest recruit," Arthur's tone of voice softened, indicating that he was not speaking as a king anymore, but as a friend.

Lancelot stared at his closest friend before shifting his gaze to Evony as she gracefully mounted her horse. She looked as fierce as the other knights now. Since her acceptance to join the round table, the craftsmen had been working nonstop to make her a respectable set of armor and weoponry to perfectly fit her hands and mold to her shape and form. She had insisted that they repurpose the plates from the armor she wore at Badon Hill. It had kept her alive and it was of a craft that they could not easily replicate. Reluctantly they obliged. She now sat upon her warhorse wearing delicate leather plated armor that hugged her form, adorned with brass studs and leafwork. The repurposed plates had been fitted down the center most panel and newly polished. The armor was capped at the sleeves with delicately plated pauldrons and spaulders. A light chain mail hauberk lay underneath. Leather plated arm guards, cowters and greaves wound around her extremities. All was topped off with the delicately worked leather plated helmet – the only item that was left untouched from Badon Hill. She of course wore her simple tunic, leather vest, leather trousers and boots with her ensemble and finished it off with a thick fur cloak.

"What of her?" Lancelot asked, feeling an itch of protectiveness enter his tone.

"She is...different...for you, isn't she?" Arthur knowlingly asked.

Lancelot met his gaze with a softness in his eyes that Arthur had never witnessed.

"She is," Lancelot answered. He could not begin to explain how different Evony was to him, but as always, his eyes said what his words could not.

Arthur nodded and brought a stern hand to Lancelot's shoulder, "Then keep her close. It is not every day that men like us are given the world."

Lancelot swallowed hard and nodded, "I plan to never let her go."

Arthur smiled, giving Lancelot one last pat on the back and turned to address the company. The assortment of men that were joining his knights were mounted and ready to go. His immediate council stood by on their horses, teetering here and there, itching to be on their way.

"Knights and Allies, I wish you well on your journey. May you be met with noble hearts and like minds. And if it is deemed you encounter a foe, may you be vigilant and strike him down to live another day. I will await your return," Arthur said and waved the crowd of men and woman off, "Safe travels."

The journey that lay ahead would take at least five to six days for the large party to reach York, where they would then split off into two groups and go their seperate ways. The wrestlessness of the new allies began to shed as their minds were occupied with travel. Bedwyr and Griflet took two small bands of woad to scout ahead. This at least let the party avoid any unwanted attention from woad tribes who would have been less sympathetic to their cause.

The knights rode at the forefront of the convoy with the prominent travel companions. Every so often Evony could feel Lancelot's gaze on her, checking to see if she was still well. As Evony pondered falling in line with her brave knight and having a word with him, her thoughts were interrupted by a deep, gravely voice.

"My lady, you fight for Arthur?" Bagdemagus inquired as he bucked his horse in line with hers.

Evony looked sideways at the proud man before answering, "Yes."

"Forgive my boldness, but we are not used to having a woman accompany us on errands of dangerous import," Bagdemagus said, "The idea intrigues me."

Evony raised an eyebrow, "Do you not have women warriors in your tribe, Sir? Our own Guinevere fought alongside men with her sister woad at Badon Hill. Surely this is not a new idea to you?"

Bagdemagus smiled, "No, it is not, lady. But in my culture our women fight only when they must. Badon Hill was a time when they must."

"So you question my purpose?" Evony asked cautiously. She was used to men questioning her purpose to be wherever she may find herself. In a world ordered by man she understood that to see a woman in a masculine position could be quite a shock.

"I apologize, lady, but yes," Bagdamagus said as respectfully as he could.

Evony paused and took a breath before answering the Woad King's question, "I understand, sir. I..."

"She is here on Arthur's orders," Lancelot interrupted the conversation as he flanked Bagdemagus' other side, "She has proven her worth in battle and her skill is needed. That is all you need to know."

The look on Lancelot's face revealed his displeasure at such questions. Who was this Woad to question Evony's right to ride with them? Bagdamagus shared a silent and tense glare with the dark knight before turning and excusing himself to ride ahead.

Evony turned her gaze to Lancelot, raising an eyebrow in amusement and annoyance.

"It is not easy for them to accept a woman in their company. He needs to know he can trust Arthur's decisions," Evony tried to explain.

"He has no right to question Arthur or you," Lancelot said, watching the woad ahead of them.

"He has every right when his life is dependant on it. You know that as well as I do," Evony reminded him.

Lancelot pursed his lips. He hated that she was right. As warriors they had to be able to depend on each other in battle. Though he knew Evony's skill and trusted her with his life, their new travel companions did not know how useful this woman really was. Either way, it was something that could not be said, only witnessed.

Before Lancelot could respond to such a comment, a familiar click and whip sounded from nearby brush.

"Saxons!" Bors shouted from the front of the line.

Ahead of the party, a rogue group of heavily clad men could be seen scrambling through the brush alongside the Roman road. The group halted, taking up a defensive stance.

"They aren't very bright, are they?" Gawain commented as he readied his bow and took aim.

"How many?" Lancelot commanded, riding up to Bors.

"Ten, maybe twelve," Bors said as another bolt shot past his ear and found itself a home in the one of the woad warriors behind them.

"We'll take them," Bagdemagus said, dismounting and motioning for his men to follow.

Evony aimed her bow and let an arrow fly toward a hidden assailant in the brush that was aiming his bow at the King of Gorre.

"Galahad, Bors, Gawain, take point. Evony, with me," Lancelot ordered as he slid off his horse and made his way toward a very foolishly charging Saxon. Lancelot pulle his twin swords from their scabbard on his back and easily outmaneuvered the oaf, slicing through leather, fur, and flesh.

Evony slid from her horse and pulled her sword and axe. Taking count of how many Saxons retreated versus how many charged she judged that this was a very unorganized and inexperinced band of men. To let themselves be caught on a Roman road was foolish.

Evony followed Lancelot into the brush, weapons drawn, and pursued the beastly men. Another arrow whistled by and planted itself in the trunk of the nearest tree. The knights and allies took cover behind what rock or tree trunk they could. Evony peered cautiously around the trunk of her tree just in time to see a very scrawny Saxon take aim for one of the warriors and miss. She readied a dagger from her holster and threw the piece of metal as the Saxon took aim again. The bow fell from his hands as he collapsed to the underbrush.

Nodding the all clear, Lancelot led the group to pursue the last five of the stragglers. Behind them they could hear Bors, Gawain and Galahad finishing up their work with the last three of the enemy who had tried to brave the company of knights and warriors.

In a matter of moments the small group was neutralized. As they krept back to the main road, Evony passed the Saxon who had fallen from her dagger and quickly retrieved her weapon from his chest. Cleaning the blood off the blade she emerged onto the Roman road to join her male companions.

"Did you find them all?" Bors asked eagerly.

"Aye," Lancelot confirmed.

"We have an injured man," Bagdemagus announced.

Evony looked to Lancelot and he nodded to her. Quickly she grabbed her satchel from her saddle bag and made her way to the woad that had taken the Saxon bolt. The Woad were weary at first, eyeing Evony suspiciously.

"I can help," Evony stated plainly.

Behind her Lancelot was barking orders to the men. He had taken on the position of Captain of the mission until the group split. His brothers in arms didn't seem to have a problem with that, as none of them were too keen on having to be leader. He looked over to Evony with calculating eyes and ordered her passage.

"Let the Lady take a look. She is our triage," he gave Bagdemagus a stern look and finally the man nodded approval to his men to let Evony pass.

The Woad man sat wearily on a rock, flinching from the bold sticking form his body. The Saxon who had let the arrow fly had not been a very good aim and had gotten the bolt stuck in the man's shoulder. Quickly, Evony assessed the wound and it's severity.

"It's too high to have injured anything vital," Evony said, "What is your name?"

"Iden," the Woad said as he flinched again from her touch.

"Iden, you are a lucky man," Evony said as she unfolded an oilskin with supplies and herbal concotions. Swiftly she grabbed a leather strap she had brought with her and handed it to Iden.

"Bite down on this. The hardest part will pass soon, I promise," Evony told him.

Iden carefully took the piece of strap between his teeth and grabbed hold of his brother's arms to steady himself. In one swift movement Evony pulled the bolt free and held a clean cloth firmly to the wound to slow the bleeding. She studied the bolt for a moment to make sure it was in tact and not splintered or chipped.

"Do you know what you are doing, Lady?" Bagdemagus questioned.

Evony pursed her lips with slight annoyance. Unfortunately her patience grew thin when there was urgency about the tasks at hand.

"Sir, I have been raised among knights in the Roman army and I have put in years of service patching them up. I can handle a bolt wound just fine," Satisfied with her answer and her inspection of the bolt, she grabbed a small oilskin flask of herbal antiseptic and poured it over the wound.

Iden stiffened and flinched as the liquid boiled on his skin, washing the blood away in a bubbly waterfall. Bagdemagus frowned and continued to watch Evony work.

Quickly she found her pin bone and thread in her kit and began to stitch up the small bolt wound. When she was finished she dipped a small dagger in a jar of nettle and devils scourge balm and spread it over the wound. Finally she wrapped the man's shoulder firmly with a bandage and made a sling out of an axtra leather strap she had in her kit.

"There. You will live. Just don't use it. It will be tender," Evony remarked as she began to pack her triage kit up, "And for heaven's sake, keep it clean. We don't want you to be taken by fever."

Iden nodded stiffly, "Many thanks, my lady."

As Evony stood and turned to go back to her horse she caught the eye of the Woad King.

"You see, my lord, I am quite useful," Evony quipped as she passed him.

Bagdemagus just nodded in quiet consideration.

"What is our situation?" Evony asked Lancelot as she packed her satchel away and mounted her horse once again.

"Bedwyr has returned with one of his scouts. They encountered another small band of Saxons ahead, but they were dealt with easily enough. Bors and Gawain have checked our surroundings. There is no more movement," Lancelot shared, "We have lost some time but I expect we will make it to Brovacum by nightfall.

He turned his great horse towards the rest of the men in the party, "Be on guard as we move along. There may be more rogues in the bushes."

The evening found the tired party spending the night on the grounds of castellum Brovacum. The fort had been completely deserted by the Romans. The only thing that remained was the civilian settlement outside it's walls. No leader had been appointed to the town, but the folk seemed to be fairing easily enough. The men that remained at the settlement took up guard on the perimeter for fear of Saxon attacks. They had been greatly affected when the Saxon's who had made their way to the wall. By some grace of God they had survived and not been burned to the ground like so many other villages. But they had little to share with Arthur's band of knights and warriors, save shelter for the night.

The abandoned fort was small, but the villagers offered it willingly to the tired men and asked only that Arthur not forget them and count them as allies. The Knights thanked them and promised to have further protection assigned to the fort when they returned from their journey. Arthur would not forget his people.

The Woad warriors and their leaders took shelter in the abandoned quarters of the Roman officers. They made themselves comfortable and lit fires in the hearths, sharing a meager meal unto themselves. The knights took the two main rooms of the prefect house. Lancelot, immediately calling rank, reserved the prefect's quarters for Evony and himself. Before retiring for the evening the knights met in the hall with the woad leaders for a meager meal of rations. The crackling of the great hearth gave them warmth as they discussed the days events.

"Saxon stragglers, nothing more," Bors said as he bit into a piece of bread.

"Stragglers or scouts?" Galahad questioned.

"They were unorganized. Clearly unfamiliar of the terrain," Bagdemagus commented.

"How did you not see them on your reconnaissance?" Lancelot asked Bedwyr carefully.

"They must have circled around somehow, or approached from the east and west. We did not see them as we moved south," Bedwyr said.

"No matter, they are dust now," Gawain said through a mouth full of cheese.

"I imagine we will meet with more as we continue our journey. Your men have been hunting what was left of the Saxon army after Badon Hill, but no doubt more than a few have managed to stray," Urien reminded them, "However, Arthur says the most severe reports come from further south. Villages and castellums alike, terrorized by these dogs."

Caradoc sat unnervingly quiet at this comment and Evony caught Lancelot's sideways glance at the man before he laid out his plans.

"We will procede as instructed. We knew we would find Saxons on our journey. We will deal with them as needed. Until then, we seek out what allies we have along the Roman road and we offer our diplomatic aid as needed," Lancelot said dismisively.

They all nodded in agreement before slowly dispersing.

"I will have some of my men keep watch tonight. We should take advantage of the rest this place offers. No doubtedly the opportunity will be more scarce as we continue our journey," Bedwyr offered as he stood to take his leave. He nodded at Griflet who in turn bowed and ran off to organize a group of men to keep watch.

As the woad left the hall, the knights shared a tired look of agreement as they slowly got to their feet. None of them held enough trust in their new travel companions to rest without their own guard.

"I'll take first watch," Gawain said as he stretched out stiff muscles and slung his thick wool cloak over one arm. He decided he would make his way to the castellum's parapet to keep watch.

"And me," Galahad joined, heading toward the lone tower that stood on the property.

"Wake me for second," Bors said, deciding he would make his camp in front of the great hearth, "Lets leave the lovebirds to themselves."

Galahad, Gawain and Bors smirked and giggled as Lancelot shot daggers their way with his eyes. Evony laughed before taking Lancelot's arm to drag him toward their chamber.

"We'll see you for second watch," Evony promised as she pulled her dark knight along the hall to the prefects chambers.

As they entered the chamber Evony shut the heavy door while Lancelot made his way to the brazier to light it. Evony followed suit and lit the dry logs in the fireplace. As the room came to a soft glow, they inspected their quarters and found that most the furniture and belongings had been ransacked or pilfered once the Roman's had left. The room held pieces of broken chairs, a brazier here and there, and the platform that the bed had been made on. There were shredded linens left hanging from the windows and the canopy of the bed. The two made themselves comfortable on the large Roman bed, wrapping themselves in their cloaks and furs and preparing for the night. They would need to be up in several hours for second watch.

"Evony," Lancelot said softly to his dozing amazon.

"Hmmm?" Evony wearily said through sleep.

"I'm glad you are here," Lancelot kissed the top of her head and tightened his hold on her armored frame.

Truth be told, he was glad for her companionship in every way imaginable. Many nights he had been on patrol or on a long, hard journey and had wished he had someone to hold. Someone to fill the void that was constantly in his heart and make him forget about the blasted cold. He listened to Bors complain about his bastards and marrying Vanora. He joked about siring one or more of his children and teased Galahad mercilessly about hogging all the pretty tavern maids for himself. But always there had been a sadness, an emptiness that he could never fill. It was why he always woke alone, and why, when he had a moment to himself, he would stare into the fire and wonder if that was his destiny – to roam the earth a sullied knight, ever alone and empty.

When he had found Evony something had changed entirely. He wanted to hold her close every moment he got. Even on the first few nights of their travels back to the wall, he had not wanted to let her go. He realized now that he was complete with her by his side and in his arms. And he would never let that go.

He stroked her hair as she fell deeper into sleep, her head drooping on his hard leather armor.


	10. Chapter 10

_It's here! It's finally here! Chapter 10! I'm sorry it's taken me a bit longer than expected to write it. I apologize! I wrote half this chapter and then went back and practically changed the entire thing because I wasn't happy. The chapter isn't quite as long as I hoped it would be, but I think it makes more sense now. I hope you like it! Do comment and let me know if you have any complaints! Or ideas even! I'd love to see the direction my story is leading your imagination!_

_Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing but the fluff that surrounds the greatness. Oh, and Iden. That one is all mine. Even if it's only a bit part. =o)_

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Chapter 10

The next days journey led the group further down the Roman road. As the company readied themselves to leave, Evony checked on the Woad man, Iden, to make sure his wound was thoroughly cleaned and not festered. He had made it through the night without fever, and for that, Evony was thankful.

"It looks well. Thankfully the arrow wasn't too deep. If you feel well enough, continue traveling with us. Otherwise, if the wound pains you too much, it may be wise for you to return to Camelot. The Woad healer there can take care of you and no doubt do a better job than I can," Evony commented as she slid the man's arm back into the sling.

"Thank you, lady, but I will continue on my way with my brothers," Iden said.

"Very well. Then lets make sure to keep it clean and not let the wound reopen," Evony gave him a small smile. She knew that Iden would be in pain. Afterall, the arrow had lodged itself in the soft tissue of his joint. It was not a life threatening wound, but it still pierced the body in a most unpleasant place. She knew that his dedication to his brother Woad and the mission was admirable, but now would be undertaken with greater difficulty. She made a mental note to ask him to follow in her stead to Brementanacum when they reached York. As useful as he may want to be, he would only be a hinderance if he traveled to Londinium with Bors and Galahad.

"Are we ready?" Lancelot asked her once she had her kit packed and settled herself on the back of her horse.

"Ready," she said and bucked her horse to a trot.

As the party began their journey toward castellum Verterae, Bagdemagus made his way further up to the front of the line to trot beside Evony.

"Lady, I do believe I owe you an apology," the gruff King of Gore started, "I can see why Arthur wished your presence on this mission with us."

"Thank you, Lord Bagdemagus," Evony nodded her head, "Though I understand your hesitancy. We live in uncertain times. It is natural to need to be able to trust those around you and their abilities."

"You are quite right, lady. You are a brave fighter and skilled healer. I am thankful that you are here with us," Bagdemagus recognized, "My men and I are happy to ride with you."

With that, the King of Gore took his leave to fall in line with his men once more.

As the sun made it's journey across the sky, the party made their way to Verterae, passing small villages as they went. When they reached Verterae, the party found that only a few Roman Briton guards had stayed behind to tend the small settlement within it's walls. Like the knights, these Romans had been given papers of passage when their duty had been served, however they stayed behind in order to avoid the shadow of Rome. They had seen enough bloodshed in their lives and did not want to go back to a home that would look upon the loss and torture of life as such little thing. These men had made their home in Briton long ago, taking native women as their wives and carving out their own little niche in the world. Holding no further loyalties to Rome, these men opened the gates to the party of Sarmation, Roman, and Woad individuals, welcoming them to take shelter for the night. Lancelot managed to talk with the leaders of the group and gain their alliance for Arthur. Their dream of freedom matched Arthur's dream for a United Briton. They pledged their loyalty and service to Arthur if he should need it, and vowed to guard the road from Saxon maurauders.

The next castellum took half a day's ride for the party to reach Lavatrae. As the party approached this fort, the sound of swords and shouting rang through the air. The knights and warriors quickly kicked their steeds to a run as smoke and flames rose to the sky from one of the fort's timber battlements.

"Saxons," Bors seethed through his teeth as he drew his sword.

The knights and Woad followed suit, drawing their weapons to ready for battle.

"Caradoc, Bedwyr, take the left flank with your men. Urien, Oweyn, Vortigern, take the middle. We will take the right. Lets break them up so the villagers can tend those flames!" Lancelot ordered and charged forward, sword in hand.

The group of Saxons that had laid siege on the fort were only 20 in all. A small number to take such a grand fort, but since it did not have many Roman officers left to defend it's walls, it made it an easier target. Villagers ran, some screaming, some attempting to fight. The few officers that remained in the fort were struggling to hold their ground as the battlement burned. Their faces lit up with relief when they saw the Sarmatian knights and their allies coming to their aid. They made quick work of the Saxon ruffians and began aiding the guard to organize the wounded in the healing house and thoroughly drench the scorched and burned timber of the east wall.

"We thank you with our lives!" the leader of the fort, General Junius, thanked them with an arm crossing his chest and a great bow.

"Your life is not needed. Your people have paid enough blood for today. All we ask is for shelter for the night and your allegiance to Arthur, High King of Briton," Lancelot asked as he wiped Saxon blood from his blades before sheathing them once again.

"We have heard about Arthur's triumphs," Junius nodded, "He has our loyalties. Anything he needs that we can provide, we will stand with him."

That evening as the men gathered around the fire for a meal of roast quail that the fort had provided for them, the men talked of their accomplishments in the last two days.

"This is easier than we thought!" Bors said as he hungrily bit into a juicy quail thigh.

"This is nothing. We are still close to the wall. Just cleaning up stragglers and finding those whose alliance is already chosen," Gawain corrected him.

Bors grunted his disapproval as he chewed his meat.

"Gawain is right. This is nothing compared to what we will encounter further south," Lancelot paused and looked at Bors, "Compared to what you will encounter."

Bors paused in his chewing and raised an eyebrow.

"We go into unknown territory while you get to visit the only Sarmatian castellum on this whole bloody island," Galahad said bitterly.

"It is what Arthur wishes. Besides, you know why I am going there," Lancelot sighed.

"Because of your pretty face?" Gawain joked, "So you can bat your lashes and win their hearts?"

The men laughed and Lancelot threw a leg bone at the blonde savage.

"You will not be alone," Bedwyr reminded Galahad and Bors, "We will be with you. It will be easier if you are in the company of Woad than in the company of Romans."

"What, do we not have enough charms to win over your people ourselves?" Bors joked with a mouth full of food, spitting bits of meat as he spoke.

"Hasn't anyone ever taught you it's rude to speak with your mouth full?" Evony playfully slapped the back of his head as she joined them at the fire.

"Insessantly, but apparently I enjoy being rude," Bors shot back as Lancelot handed her a skewer of quail.

"I'm sure Vanora would be proud," Evony chidded.

"It's a charm that won me her heart, among other things," Bors said deviously.

The other knights rolled their eyes.

"Oh brother, here we go," Gawain groaned.

The Woad and Roman companions looked puzzled at their reaction, not understanding that Bors was about to deliver his age old story of his bounty.

"She couldn't resist my manly girth," Bors perked up at the opportunity to drive his point home.

Lancelot hung his head while Galahad began to giggle.

"No really!" Bors said in protest of their doubt and held up his arm, his hand balled fist.

As he said his trademark description the knights murmered along with him in unision, "It's as big as a baby's arm holding an apple!"

Understanding this must be something the knights surely were tortured with for quite some time, the men broke out in laughter. Gawain threw a piece of meat at Bors as the man broke out in a mischievous smile.

When the laughter finally died down Lancelot looked to Evony and asked, "How fare the injured?"

"Most will live. A couple may die by tomorrow," Evony reported, "The healer they have here is an inexperienced apprentice. Their master healer left with the Romans, apparently to follow the wine. This apprentice will do well though. I have shown him what herbs he will need to treat the wounded and how to prepare them. He has steady hands and does not faint at the site of blood. He will do well enough."

Lancelot took notice of Caradoc shaking his head across from the fire.

"Have you something to say to the matter, Lord Caradoc?" Lancelot questioned in a cautious tone.

"Only that the Romans left their precious empire to rot, sir," Caradoc said bitterly.

The group fell silent as the tension loomed in the air.

"The Romans came to this land and stole it from it's people. They built walls and Romanized half the population. Then when their precious Pope decided we were too much trouble, they abandoned us to savages," Caradoc stated the obvious.

"Is this not what Arthur is charging us to remedy? To let the people know they are not alone just because Rome is gone?" Oweyn nobly offered.

"Rome uses what it wishes and leaves the scraps for the rest. There is no care for the lives of anyone other than their own," Vortigern chimed in.

"But it should be a blessing that Rome is gone. That our people are now free of their tyranny to regain our country," Bedwyr said, "That is why we are here. Our people have been torn long enough. Arthur's dream is not a Roman dream. It comes from our people. From the land itself. We must unite if we are to ecome strong."

"Well I'd say we have enough to unite over," Gawain spoke up, surprising everyone, "This land may not be my own, but it is what I will call home for as long as I must. I do not wish it to go to shit because of some Saxon bastards."

The men nodded.

"This land is home to more than just Briton or Woad. Look at us, around this fire. How different could we be? But yet we are here for a common cause," Lancelot's words held everyone's ear, "Arthur's dream is to unite the people. It matters not who those people are. We are all one people in the end. We are all fighting for the same thing. The opportunity to live as we were born. Free."

Evony felt a swell of pride to hear the curly haired knight speak so boldly. He really didn't realize that he was becoming the perfect emissary for Arthur's task.

"The Saxons are against our right. They would rather us die and leave the ground fertile with our blood. But we will stand and fight together, and we will win. Arthur says the people need protection. We are that force that will change the tide and give the people their freedom. We did it at Badon Hill, and that was just a small force. But look at us – Woad, Briton, Roman, Sarmatian. A melting pot of strength. There is no greater force if we are united." Lancelot finished his thoughts and stared at the men at the fire before bowing his head and blushing. He was not accustomed to speaking so seriously. He was used to taking orders and giving them. Hearing himself vocalize his thoughts and rally men together as Arthur would unnerved him, but oddly gave him a sense of strength and worth he never felt before.

The men around the fire stared at him in amazement. Bors jaw had dropped and a bit of qual hung disturbingly from his lip. Urien and Oweyn straghtened their stature with pride. The woad kings looked stern, a few nodding in agreement, wry smiles crossing their lips. Evony smiled proudly as she finished her meal.

"Well then, looks like there is a diplomat in you yet!" Gawain said with a smile to break the silence, "You've been hanging around Arthur too long!"

The blonde barbarian clapped a hand to Lancelot's back and the men laughed. As the evening meal came to a close, they all retreated to their own corner of the fort grounds to retire.

The next three days led the party down the Roman road past the waystop of Cataractonium, a few small villages that were burdened by Saxon rogues stealing food and slaughtering cattle, and onto Isirium.

Isirium proved a treat for the knights and Britons of the group, but an unwelcome experience for the Woad travelers. The town was, by all means, Roman. The people had remained after Rome's retreat, favoring their own way of life and law. The prefect ruled the town and kept things organized, offering aid to the surrounding villages and the nearest castellums in trade for grain and services. It was a marriage of convenience. Relations with the rebel woad population were strained and Bedwyr, Bagdemagus, Griflet, Caradoc, Vortigern and their men had to make camp in the woods to keep the peace. Lancelot had managed to talk with the prefect of the town and convince him to visit Arthur's court to share in words of a United Britain. The prospect of aligning themselves with Camelot under Arthur's rule was sweetened by the suggestion of a fortified road for trade to enrich the city.

"Damn politicians," Bors commented as he sat himself down for a pint of ale at the local tavern, "And we have to kiss their arse!"

"No, we don't need to kiss. Just merely caress," Gawain commented sarcastically.

"And this is why Arthur leaves me to do the talking! There is no finess to your delivery, gentlemen!" Lancelot joked as he swept an arm around Evony's waste. He was beginning to like his new use of persuasion.

"Arthur needs allies. What better allies than those who seek to build their own economy?" Evony sipped her ale, "In times of need, they will call on Arthur. And in his time of need, they may play a good roll defending the main road and trade routes."

"And the Woad? I doubt they will be pleased to be in an alliance with Romans who still hate them," Oweyn asked.

"Not everyone will be happy. The point is to unite under a common goal or need. This town wishes for growth and riches. If the Saxons attack, they will have neither." Lancelot reasoned.

"Like I said, too much politics for my liking," Bors grunted.

"Well, swallow the last of your pint. We are to camp outside the town tonight," Lancelot said as he finished his ale.

"Awe, come now," Galahad protested and he gave the wench on his lap a pinch, "I was just making new friends!"

"We have a job to do. We need to show the people that we are united, even if they disapprove of our companions. It's what Arthur would want," Lancelot rose and held his hand out for Evony, "We will camp with the rest of our company."

"Bollocks," Bors complained some more before rising and snatching the chunk of cheese from a nearby plate to take with him.

Their travels to York were uneventful but filled with unknown fears of what was to come. York proved to be more hospitable to their party and let them settle at the local inn. Some locals were still wary of the party, glaring cautiously at the tatooed men and the hevily armed Sarmatians, but the business owners cared not as long as they had enough coin. The leaders and officers of the large town were eager to discuss what Arthur could do as their leader and proved another easy conquest for Lancelot to conquer. However as the group of knights sat with the prominent memers of their company in the Inn, Lancelot could feel that this may be the last easy alliance any of them would see on their journey. They had not encountered too much activity thus far on their trip, but they all knew that the further south they would go, the more trouble they would find.

"Your journey will take at least 6 days without delay and with good weather," Lancelot commented to Bors.

"It'll take longer than that. You know this God for saken country loves to piss on our heads as much as possible!" Bors said grumpily.

"Caradoc, what of the Saxon settlements deep in the South? How far do they normally move?" Lancelot asked plainly.

Caradoc stiffened and shifted his eyes, "No more than a small village settlement near Regni. They do not venture."

Lancelot peered at his fellow knights and shared an impatient look with them. They knew Caradoc was avoiding something. Before Lancelot could press the man futher, Evony's soft voice interrupted.

"My Lord, I know that you wish the best for your people. That is all that we wish as well. With all this talk of unity, we must be able to trust one another and share our information. We know the settlement is larger than a small village. It is common knowledge of what befel Londinium and the price that was paid by your people. Please, tell us what we can expect, if not for our sakes, for the sake of your people," Evony pleaded with him, hoping that the weight of the past and the responsibility of his people would loose his tongue.

Caradoc looked at Evony, shocked that she would even speak of such things. Vortigern stiffened with resentment but said nothing. After a tense moment and a shared look between himself and Vortigern, Cardoc finally spoke.

"The further we travel on the Roman Road, the more treacherous it will get. When you reach Durolipons you will encounter a Woad and Briton settlement. They are plagued with constant raids. Londinium is lost. Hengest is the Saxon that rules over it now. I have not seen a Roman present in that city for some time, nor trade reaching that far south. Britons and Picts stay clear of the city," Caradoc said, his voice strained.

"And what of the settlement?" Lancelot asked.

"The Saxons maintain the southern tip of Kent. You call it Cantii. And have towns and villages along the southern coastline from Dubrae to Clasuentum. They maintain most of Regni as well," Caradoc revealed.

"Bloody hell," Bors sat back and shared a look of disbelief with Gawain.

"So we're walking into a lion's den," Galahad laughed drunkenly, "Beautiful!"

"Why did you not tell Arthur of this before we left Camelot?" Oweyn asked incredulously.

"This is only supposed to be a scouting mission. Besides, what would Arthur do? He has no army," Caradoc said boldly.

The blood in Lancelot's veins began to boil, "Arthur has us."

"Your heroics are noted, Sir, but Caradoc is right," Vortigern spoke up, "To arrive in force at Londinium would mean certain death. The Saxons that amass in the south are no match for the woad or britons. That is why so many have left the area. I admit I was foolish to deal with such beasts in the first place, and I have paid a terrible price. But I have learned much about them in trade. They are ruthless, and the force they carry with them will take more than four Sarmatian knights to supress."

"Reconsaissance then. As we planned. We change the game," Evony interrupted, "Approach the city with caution. Let it be a scout mission from Durolipons. Camp where you must but only observe unless it is deemed safe. No negotiations or alliances. No encounters. Simply get what information Arthur could use and leave. We can figure out what to do when we return to Camelot."

"You will need more men. I will go with you," Catigern said. The young prince surprised everyone at the table. He had not spoken the entire trip, and to hear his voice startled everyone. His father, Vortigern, raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"They will kill you! You are my son!" Vortigern said angrily.

"Then they do not need to know who I am. Only that I am scouting," Catigern argued, "I will take three of our men with us as well. We will need the numbers."

"I will not allow..." Vortigern started before being interrupted.

"I will go, father. They have taken our home and murdered our people," Catigern said as his final word, "I may not be able to stop them but by the gods I can get Arthur what he needs to know. None knows the land or the city better than it's own people."

Vortigern set his jaw angrily and held his tongue. His position of an exile and usurper did nothing to help his cause. He couldn't set foot near his old home and had no army to defend it. Having his son offer to help Arthur and to travel with Picts felt like a slap in the face. But he could not continue to object and risk unwanted questions to be thrown in his direction.

"We should be travelling together," Lancelot scowled into his mug of ale.

"Arthur asked us to separate. He would not have done so if he thought it too dangerous," Gawain reminded them. It sounded more like an attempt to convince himself that Arthur's request was reasonable. The knights knew they were strongest when they were together. It was that strength that had kept them alive for all these years.

"We will make do. Remember, reconnaissance," Evony tried to ease the discomfort of the conversation.

Lancelot sighed, "We will stock up on supplies in the morning and head out. Bors, if you need any aid, send word immediately. Don't hesitate to leave if you must."

Lancelot looked around the table before saying, "Gentlemen, inform your men and make ready for tomorrow."

The Woad and Briton's nodded their heads and exchanged words before dismissing themselves. Gawain and Galahad rose and began walking to their rooms to get some much needed rest.

"Bors," Gawain called for the portly man who was muttering obscenities under his breath. He was none too pleased with the information that was given and he felt like he was getting the short end of the stick.

"Bors," Gawain said again, "Are you coming?"

"Of course I'm coming!" Bors shouted in frustration, "You don't bloody well need to call for me! Bloody hell!"

Bors stood and gulped down the last of his ale. Shaking his head he made his way up the stairs to his room muttering to himself something about how Vanora would kill him if he didn't come home.


	11. Chapter 11

_Dear Readers - I am soooo sorry that it took me so long to post this next chapter! It has been a long road trying to formulate this part of the story. Inspiration took a little longer to muster up, but I think I've got it now! I hope you enjoy what I've written below. Not a whole lot of action, but definitely a whole lot of plotting! Just keep in mind that even though this part might move slow, it's vital for what is to come. It is a little bit short, but I wanted to make sure I posted something before you thought I went AWOL!_

_Please remember to rate and review! I would love some criticism! _

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Chapter 11

The fire cracked and the sounds of scratching could be heard in the dimly lit quarters of the High King. Arthur sat at his writing desk, pouring over maps and reports that had been collected from the last month. Since his knights had departed to carry out his orders, Arthur had continued to recieve reports and offers for allegiance from stragglers of the wall and villages all over Briton. Woad, Roman, Briton, half-breeds, they all poured into Camelot. Some offered him service in exchange for a meager living. Others offered information in exchange to train with his army and protect their village. What was most disturbing was the collective information gathered on Saxon activity. Arthur knew that after the battle at Badon Hill there would be stragglers scavenging the countryside, but the numbers didn't add up. The Saxon army had been large, but by the time the battle had ended there weren't more than thirty that ran away to the trees. In the weeks to follow his knights and the Woad warriors had tracked down at least twenty of that number terrorizing nearby settlements. But the reports in his hands stated that small bands of Saxons could be found all along the wall and increasing in number the further South one would go.

Arthur sighed deeply, covering his face with his hands in frustration. He knew that his task as King would not be an easy one, but he now felt like he had sent his knights to die. What would they encounter on their journey? Could he forgive himself if anything happened to his brothers in arms? He already carried the guilt of more than half his round table. He did not think he could bare to add to that burden.

A loud knock on his chamber door interrupted his train of thought.

"Enter," his muffled voice said through his hands.

"Arthur, you are needed at the main gate," Jols called for him, the tone of his voice holding a serious urgency that Arthur did not enjoy.

"What is it?" Arthur asked tiredly.

"A visitor," Jols informed, "You'll want to see for yourself."

"Alright," Arthur said, sighing as he rose to his feet and grabbed his cloak, "I'm coming."

Arthur followed Jols to the main gate where he saw Caius standing with two guards in front of a group of hooded figures.

"What is this?" he asked in a stern voice as he approached the visitors.

Caius turned slightly, keeping his hand on his sword, and acknowledged his King, "My Lord, they insisted they see you at once. I thought it best to hold them at the gate until you gave your word."

"Artorius Castus, so it is true," a thickly accented voice said from under his hood, "You are this King of Briton we have been hearing about. The Uniter."

"Who may you be, stranger? Show yourself," Arthur demanded as he stood and eyed the figures suspiciously.

The one who had spoken nodded his head to his three companions and they swept their hoods back and stood in the torchlight.

"By Gods," Arthur exclaimed, "Fergus Mòr. What are you doing at the Wall?"

"Rumors of a half-breed King have traveled far from Hadrian's Wall. I had to come for myself to see if it was true," the redheaded Caledonii King said calmly.

"You know it is unwise for you to travel this far South. Rome may be gone, but I will not be so kind as to forget our agreement," Arthur reminded him of the pact that was made so many years ago when the Caledonii had invaded Briton from the sea in an attempt to gain more land. The battle was bloody, and the Sarmatian knights that had been stationed at Brementenacum had been the only savior against the fiersome Caledonii warriors. In the end, few warriors had survived. Fergus Mòr was one of those few. At the time he was a simple general and prince of the Dal Riata, commanding the tribe's warriors. When the battle had proven unsuccesful for the Caledonii, Fergus had spoken on his people's behalf, asking Arthur for mercy and safe passage to return home. Arthur had granted the request on one condition – that Fergus act as a bulwark for Rome, keeping Briton safe from invading picts in the Northern Dal Riata, and that the Caledonii would never invade Briton again. Fergus agreed and the arrangement had worked out nicely. Fergus and his men left with their lives and Roman Briton had added an extra defense against the picts in their own territory. Since then, Pict attacks on Roman forts north of the wall had decreased considerably and Rome had been able to somewhat control the lands between the old Antonine Wall and Hadrian's Wall once again.

"I know that Rome is no longer ruler of Briton," Fergus said cautisously, "And that Artorius Castus has finally decided to join his people."

Arthur clenched his jaw as he stared at the red headed man before him. He still wasn't used to hearing the phrase, "his people," when it referred to the Briton and Woad population. Hearing those words coming from this man made him even more suspicious of his visit.

"What do you want, Fergus Mòr? As you can see, the rumors are true and I have no patience for men who violate their oaths," Arthur challenged.

"Oh, I think you will want to hear what I have to say," Fergus assured him, "We have not broken our oath. I have come to the knowledge that a faction of our Caledonii have decided to go back on our word and will attack your precious Briton to claim land and wealth."

"And you tell me this why? Why not take advantage of the absence of Rome? It is clear you know they have abandoned this country," Arthur asked suspiciously.

"Because I do not wish another war between us. I know what you are capable of, Artorius Castus, and I would rather be friend than foe. This is a delicate time, my lord. One in which you will need allies if you are to truly be the Uniter. I am sure that in time our people will be part of your vision," Fergus held out his hands in offering, "It is in both our interests to maintain peace."

Arthur paused to consider Fergus' words and study the small group of Caledonii before him. They were a ragtag bunch of men, tired and dirty from their long journey to the Wall. Fergus' red hair hung limply against his face, his blue eyes piercing and waiting for Arthur's answer. In his dealings with the Caledonii, Arthur had known Fergus to be a man of his word. He had stayed true to their deal and aided Briton against the pict invasion for years. He was a man who Arthur regarded much like himself – a knight, in his own right, and leader who cared for his people and who had a vision. He was not as rutheless as most the Caledonii that Arthur had encountered in battle, but rather democratic. Arthur supposed this was the reason why his popularity among his people grew to tremendous proportion when he suceeded after the death of his father, King Erc. But what other information could Fergus possibly have for Arthur?

"Fine," Arthur said at last, "Let us talk. Jols, show them to the hall. I will see you there shortly."

Jols bowed slightly and motioned for the men to follow him to the meeting hall. Arthur hung back with Caius, watching them walk away.

"Do you think what he says is true?" Caius asked with a wary eye on the Caledonii.

"I think what he says holds truth. Either way, we must hear him out. Our knights are out there and we need to be prepared if there is trouble," Arthur reminded him, "Come, let us see what else we can gain. Meet me at the hall. I will fetch the Queen."

Moments later Arthur briskely made his way down the corridor, his queen by his side.

"You are sure we can trust what this Fergus says?" Guinevere asked skeptically as she lifted her skirts to move faster.

"I am sure he would not travel to the Wall unless it were important. He knows he is not welcome here," Arthur said.

"I don't trust Caledonii," Guinevere said through clenched teeth as they reached the meeting hall.

"Nor do I. They are a fierce bunch. But he is right. If we are to make a United Briton, we must hear him out," Arthur said, holding his arm out for his queen to take and nodded at Jols.

Jols stood aside and held the door open for his king and queen as they passed through the threshold. Caius stood from his seat immediately, followed by the Caledonii. The men bowed in respect to the king and queen as they passed and made their way to their seats. Arthur pulled Guinevere's chair out and made sure she was seated comfortably before settling down in his own chair. The men followed suit.

"What is this information you wish to share with me, Fergus?" Arthur asked the man, folding his hands in front of him on the round table.

"As you may have heard rumored before Rome decided to leave, there has been unrest in Dal Riata. We have had several individuals attempt to usurp the throne with little success," Fergus began, "There are some among the tribes that do not enjoy being another tool for Rome."

"Rome is gone," Arthur reminded him sternly, pushing the man to get to the point.

"Never the less, it's presence is still felt. There has been an uprising. A former leader of one of our tribes has decided to take advantage of the weakened state of Briton and try to claim land and title. His name is Galyn Finn. He has chosen to go against our treaty and my specific orders to stand down. He has been exiled and has taken a faction of tribesmen by sea to enter Briton and take control," Fergus revealed.

"Where are they landing?" Arthur asked, his face still stern and virtually expressionless.

"Western coastline, in a bay not far south from the Cumbrian Mountains. It is mostly bogland and forest they take cover in. I assume to ellude detection from any settlements or Roman forts," Fergus shared.

"How many?" Arthur knew the place that Fergus spoke of. He knew it all too well. It was not far from where the last Caledonii battle had began. Not all that far from Brementanacum in fact.

"At least a hundred. All exiles and rebel tribesmen," Fergus told him.

Caius' jaw tightened as he looked to his king. He had not been in service all that long to Arthur, but he knew the urgency of maintaining borders while trying to piece together a broken country. An army of a hundred men, that far out in Brigantes territory would be hard to defend. Especially with Rome gone and so many forts abandoned.

"Why, my lord, are you so willingly sharing this information with us? Is this a ploy to distract our resources while you and your people attack from another location? You have your chance, sir. Why come to us?" Guinevere asked him skeptically.

Fergus gritted his teeth as he and his men shifted uncomfortably in their seats. They were used to fiery women, but Arthur's Queen was a Woad. She was a part of the tribesmen that Fergus' had sworn to keep under control for Arthur. Fergus had to remind himself that this was Arthur's Queen. Whatever had changed in the man had changed for the better and he must respect that if he were ever to reach his own goal. He did not want to be chased like a dog from this country again.

"My lady, I am a man of my word. There was a time when the Kings of Dal Riata would have not hesitated to seize this land and make it their own. In fact I was part of the force that tried. But that time has passed. The survivors of the last Caledonii invasion have vowed to leave these lands be and to watch over the pict movement in Dal Riata," Fergus said calmly, even though his patience was boiling underneath his skin, "The last time we tried to take land in Briton we almost succeeded, until we encountered Arthur. We battled hundreds of Roman cavalry and Sarmatian knights. We were chased like vermin all over Briton until all we could do was pray we would get back to our home. We made a dire mistake. I do not wish to make that mistake again. And I do not wish an arrogant imbecile cause a war for my people out of his own greed."

Guinevere sat staring at the King of the Dal Riata, pondering what he had said. She remembered hearing stories of the Caledonii. They had managed to conquer lands all the way to York. Arthur had been charged by Rome to control the situation and a great battle ensued at Brementanacum. The Caledonii were defeated and pursued all the way back to Hadrian's wall, where they practically begged for their lives to return home. Guinevere never knew the finer details, but she knew that many Caledonii and Pict had been killed during that battle, and it was that specific battle that had given Arthur and his Sarmatian Knights the reputation of men to be feared.

"What do you want in return?" Arthur asked cautiously. He knew that there was always a catch in dealings such as this.

"All we ask is that you maintain peace with our people, and one day grant us land for our deeds," Fergus humbly said.

"A large request for such a small bit of information," Caius spoke up.

The Caledonii men shared a quick glance before Fergus answered, "Not when we also offer our allegience to the High King of Briton."

Arthur raised his eyebrow, waiting for Fergus to continue.

"We will offer Arthur our service to continue to maintain the northern borders from the Pict population, or whatever orders may be given, and offer aid against the growing Saxon armies to the South if he will allow my people land to settle when he has accomplished uniting Briton," Fergus explained.

"You are holding much faith in a vision that may take years to pass," Arthur said flatly.

"As I said, I have seen what you are capable of. I believe that you will accomplish what you set out to achieve. I understand what it means to rule a country out of chaos. I have heard the rumors of the Saxon migrations. We can help if you will let us. In this instance, we have a common enemy. My people do not wish to have Saxons invade our country. If they get past you, we are surely next," Fergus bowed his head slightly in respect.

Arthur sat in silence for a moment, pondering the offer that Fergus had given. It was true, Arthur could use as many allies as he could get to Unite all of Briton. And if his suspicions about the Saxon migration were true, he would need an army to fight. But the rebel Caledonii presented another problem that Arthur would need to take care of. The group sounded like it was following the path from the coast and would most likely encounter Brementenacum very soon. He only hoped that Lancelot and his party had made it to the fort and would be able to defend themselves.

"We have one additional request," Fergus said clearing his throat.

Guinevere looked at the man suspiciously.

Fergus shared a determined look with his three traveling companions before meeting Arthur's eyes, "My generals and I would like the honor of slitting Galyn Finn's throat for his treatchery."

Arthur looked to his queen and to Caius before answering Fergus slowly and cautiously.

"Gentlemen, would you exuse us for a moment while we deliberate the information you have shared."

The Caledonii men shared an impatient look between them and stood. They each bowed slightly before taking their leave to wait in the corridor until summoned. Jols looked to Arthur expectantly and he nodded, sending the man to stand guard at the door and keep an eye on the men outside.

The three left at the round table looked to each other and sighed.

"Do you believe what he says?" Guinevere asked her husband.

"As much as I hate to admit, I have a feeling he is telling the truth," Arthur confessed.

"We have not had any reports of Caledonii movement, have we?" Caius asked with concern.

"No, we have not. But it doesn't mean they aren't here. If what Fergus says is true, then they will follow the path that their tribes used last time they invaded. There are very few settlements between the coast and Brementanacum. They would have ample time to land, hide and rest before they make their move. If the group is as small as he says, they will not attempt a full fledged take-over. They will no doubt attempt to seize control of a small portion of land and try to hold it," Arthur answerd.

"What of Lancelot? We have no way of knowing how many men are left at Brementanacum. How many men can fight if they encounter the Caledonii," Guinevere reminded him.

"Yes, I know," Arthur fell silent to think on their options.

"Arthur," Caius interrupted, "I know we are weary to trust Fergus, but if his word is true, we must send men to Brementanacum."

"Caius, I feel we must send men regardless. If only as a precaution, so be it. But how many can we spare and still keep the wall secure? We have only secured small portions of the wall closest to Camelot. We still need enough men to round out a full guard in case there is trouble," Arthur's voice was filled with worry. He knew that if anything, they must hold Camelot. It had turned into the most formidable fort on the Wall since Rome had left. It was the home of the High King and people flocked to it in droves. They must be protected at all costs.

"We can spare a band of ten to send to Brementanacum. Add Fergus and his three guard and there will be fourteen. I can accompany them to assure his word. If anything should happen, Fergus will be outnumbered," Caius suggested.

"So we must have faith that Brementanacum still has enough fighting men available?" Guinevere said, annoyance lacing her words.

"Brementanacum was Rome's Sarmatian outpost. It is where most boys were sent to train, and most men retired from duty. Last I knew, it was home to at least one hundred and fifty Sarmatian knights, retired and active, as well as their families," Arthur informed, "If Lancelot is lucky, he will be able to find enough men to hold the Caledonii - if what Fergus says is true."

The three fell silent for a moment before Arthur raised his head, meeting their eyes and calling for Jols.

"Yes Arthur?" Jols appeared in the doorway.

"Send in our guests. We have made our decision," Arthur answered.

A moment later Fergus Mòr and his three guards saundered into the room where they stood, awaiting Arthur's word.

"Fergus Mòr, King of the Dal Riata. We have considered the information you have given us, as well as your word, and have decided to take no chance. We will send a host of guard to Brementanacum to support our knights already posted there. In the event your story is true, we will defend our land and our people. You will ride with the guard to make good on your intent to punish your exiled burden. Caius will accompany you. If in the event you have betrayed our trust, you will be disposed of. Mercy shall not be granted a second time," Arthur issued his orders sternly, "Upon your return to Camelot, if that is your destiny, you will be charged with keeping the border of the Dal Riata and Briton in tact. Further relations will be discussed at length."

Fergus' blue eyes glowed. Arthur had believed him, and he would ensure that the rebel Galyn Finn would pay for slandering the Caledonii name and disobeying a diplomatic order.

"Thank you, my lord," Fergus bowed low, "We are grateful for your trust and generosity. When do we leave?"

* * *

As the fog rolled through the trees and hovered over the dirt road, the travelers gathered their supplies and prepared to part ways in the cold morning air. Bors party carefully checked their supplies and weaponry, making sure they would be prepared for their treacherous journey south. Lancelot's party did much the same, only were less burdened by supplies. Their journey would be considerably shorter to Brementanacum.

"Bors," Lancelot greeted with a stern nod.

Bors tipped his head and surveyed his company. He was taking his brother in arms, Galahad, with him, but was otherwise surrounded by Woad. Not just any woad, mind you, but two Woad Kings and a prince, one of whome he was sure he did not like. He felt uneasy traveling in such company, but if he were to survive he would have to make the best of it.

"Why does it feel like I'm walking into a lion's den?" Bors asked Lancelot as their horses stepped two and fro, making their restlessness known.

"Because you are, my friend. Be wary. Don't trust easily." Lancelot advised.

"I thought you said we must show our unity. Isn't trust part of that?" Bors taunted Lancelot with his own words.

"Yes, well, that was when we were winning allies. Remember, Arthur said this was a test for them. I do not trust any man who witholds information vital to my survival," Lancelot stated bluntly and cast a dark gaze at Caradoc.

"Nor do I," Bors agreed, "I'd sooner trust the lion than that Woad."

"Keep Bedwyr close to you and Galahad. I remember what he and his men did at Badon Hill. They are loyal to Arthur. He may be your saving grace if you should need it," Lancelot said.

"And what of Vortigern's pup? Are we to trust the son of an usurper?" Bors huffed.

"I will leave that to you, my friend. He doesn't seem to agree with his father's actions, but then again, he could just want revenge. If that's the case, use it to your advantage," Lancelot advised.

Bors nodded as his company began to fall in line. Galahad waited at the forefront of the Woad for his brother.

"Fair travels, my friend," Lancelot held his arm out for Bors.

Bors grasped him roughly by the forearm and nodded his head, "Fair travels, brother. Promise me if I die that Vanora and our brood are taken care of."

"I won't need to promise. You'll return to her and give her more little bastards," Lancelot tried to assure him.

Bors gave a small smile but his eyes still held the fear that he may not return. He let go of Lancelot's arm and turned his horse, holding his fist in the air and giving a mighty shout, "Ruuuuuus!" His company tipped their heads to their companions and began making their way south toward Londinium.

Lancelot and his own company sat for a moment and watched them depart, the fog swallowing any trace of them in minutes. He lightly kicked at his mares sides and turned her toward his own company.

"Come on," he said lightly, "Let us make way for Brementanacum."

With that, Lancelot lead the way to a road less traveled that would lead them West toward Brementanacum. Their journey would be shorter, but their road would not be as smooth as the main Roman road. Their path wound around gullies and mountains, paths that would be overgrown with bush and as not nearly maintained as the Roman road.

"Do not worry," Lancelot heard Evony's voice beside him as he lead the group onward, "We will see them again."

Lancelot gave his love a sideways glance, a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth, "Yes, I just hope they will be alive."


End file.
